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[pluvpluvpluv]

Hello friends! If you're here looking for fit, I've decided to turn this into my main blog. I've reposted everything from here onto this new blog, and all future updates will be here. I'm writing this in the middle of reposting but this will soon be my pinned post. I hope you'll follow me over to this new blog. xoxo Pluv <3

I love my computer autocorrecting my shit and me not noticing. But yes! All of my current fics are being reposted and all future fics will be on this new account @pluviowriting

I’m too emotionally attached to this account to delete everything and start completely over. So don’t worry if you see a duplicate fic. It is still me, just reposting. Hope to see you there!!!

[pluvpluvpluv]

Ominis: MC kissed you?

(Sebastian stares woefully out his window)

Ominis: And, you said thank you..?

Sebastian: Yes.

Ominis: Well, that was very polite of you.

(The Library)

MC: Thank you?!? What in Salazar does that mean?

Imelda: He’s stupid, MC. You should know this by now.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Study Break

18+ || MDNI || Content Warnings: SMUT, characters aged up, established relationship, language, praise kink, thigh riding, lil bit of breeding kink, semi public sex I think that covers it all

Word Count: 1480 exactly

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

A/N: Happy Thirsty Thursday :) This was written in one sitting and not edited at all. I read through it once before going “yeah post it”

~~~

MC was ready for summer. Summer meant NEWTs were done and she could take a month or so off to celebrate and relax before diving headfirst into her next adventure. She had spent the last two summers under an apprenticeship with Fatima Lawang, making the trip from Feldcroft to Keenbridge every day to study and learn business from someone she truly looked up to. She would be opening a small apothecary in the hamlet she now called home. It was a wonderful location, since she knew Bernard really stuck to selling beast byproducts and plants. She wouldn’t be encroaching on his market, and she could also source ingredients from him. It was going to be, thankfully, a mutually beneficial existence.

She had moved to Feldcroft at the end of their fifth year. Sebastian had nowhere else to live over the summer months, she really had nowhere to live over that time, and neither wanted to be alone. So, when that first year had come to an end, she just followed him home. He had started courting her about halfway through that summer. She had accepted and they had practically lived together like a married couple ever since.

Before she could get to the summer and enjoy her newfound freedom with the love of her life, she had to pass the NEWTs. In order to get her apothecary license, she needed to score high in Potions and Herbology at the very least, but that wasn’t going to be enough for her. The reputation of saving the wizarding world at fifteen years old meant she was expected to do exceedingly well on all of her NEWTs, and she was determined to do so.

She had taken up residence in one of the more secluded corners of the library. It always ensured that MC wouldn’t have to share the table and she could have all of her books open and spread out. Only a select few people knew of where she hid out to study, which limited the interruptions. Except in the case of her boyfriend.

She didn’t know how long she had really been studying when Sebastian finally sat beside her. She didn’t even look up from rereading a paragraph she had already read ten times before. She still retained nothing.

“MC. Love, you missed lunch. I brought you some food.”

“Thanks Bash. I’ll eat it in a minute. I just need to understand what this page is saying.”

He set the plate down and moved the book.

“Considering it’s well past lunch and I didn’t even see you at breakfast, I think you can’t understand the page because you’re hungry. Eat and take a break.”

MC glared at him, debating whether or not it would be worth the argument since they were both the most stubborn person the other had met. That train of thought was interrupted by a rather loud growl as she was betrayed by her own stomach. She ate the food that he brought her without further complaint.

While she ate, Sebastian sat beside her and scanned over the tomes she had laid out on the table. She was paying more attention to him instead. The way that his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused on a paragraph in one of the books and the way his lips moved silently with the words. She focused on his hands as he turned the page and the way that the muscles in his exposed forearms flexed even with that small movement. She could feel herself growing hotter by the second, and it led to the realization that she and Sebastian hadn’t been intimate in nearly three weeks. It could’ve been a record, honestly. Even before he was courting her, after they took each other’s virginities that first summer in Feldcroft, they hardly went more than a couple days without going after each other. The joys of two students living with no chaperone.

“I can feel you staring holes in the side of my head, MC. Have you finished eating? Do you want me to read to you to see if that helps you understand the material better?”

The way he cared for her had also always been one of her favorite things. She had never been good at keeping herself in check, but Sebastian always did his best to make sure she didn’t overextend herself.

“I—uh it’s mostly gone. But I was thinking about something else.”

“Were you? Care to share with the class, darling?”

“I could use your help. Just in a different way.”

He looked at her curiously for a moment before it seemed he registered the look on her face and his expression grew more heated.

“Have you been thinking too much? Do you want to turn that brilliant brain off for a minute?”

His tone was condescending, and while it would normally agitate her when he spoke to her that way, this time it felt different. She nodded slowly, her eyes not leaving his own while a smirk grew on his face.

“Do you remember over the winter holiday, you told me about how one of the girls had talked about grinding on a pillow when she didn’t want to do things herself and I made you do it for me? We don’t have a pillow here, but I bet I could have you grinding on something else and feeling as good as you did that night. Come sit on my thigh, darling. We’ll see if you can ride me like you rode that pillow. Maybe you’ll make just as big a mess on me.”

As she settled in on his lap, she was grateful she had opted for a skirt instead of one of the few outfits she had with pants. The back of the skirt that draped over her boyfriend’s knee would hopefully help hide what they were doing if anyone were to stumble back and find them.

She gave an experimental roll of her hips, and she felt Sebastian’s thigh flex beneath her. MC let out a shaky exhale as she did it again. The thin fabric of her knickers and the coarse fabric of Sebastian’s quidditch pants provided the most delicious friction to her clit. Sebastian’s large hands settled on her hips beneath her skirt, the feel of his fingertips on her bare skin lighting her nerves on fire.

“Make sure you stay quiet. Don’t need anyone hearing how I’m helping you study,” his voice purred, the effect going straight to her core.

As she grew more confident, her pace picked up. Sebastian helped, tensing his thigh and slightly pushing her hips down when she rolled them to make sure that the bundle of nerves she was focused on didn’t go a second without feeling something.

“That’s it, darling. Use me. Grind that needy little cunt on my thigh.”

MC gasped softly, biting her lip as the familiar tension in her lower stomach began to build. She was able to keep her volume down, but she couldn’t keep herself from whining and whimpering completely.

“Bash. Oh gods. I-I’m~”

“Keep going, darling. I can feel how bad you need it. That pretty pussy is drooling through my trousers. You’re making such a mess for me, my good girl. Go on. Cum on my thigh. You can do it, honey.”

With his encouragement and permission, she felt herself giving into the pleasure as her orgasm hit. Her hips stuttered, but Sebastian kept her in rhythm. She registered his low moan too, her chest heaving as she started to come down from her high.

MC’s hand moved to where she assumed she’d find Sebastian’s bulge, hard and aching for the attention she wanted to give it. Instead, her hand landed on a warm, wet patch on the front of his trousers.

“Sebastian Sallow,” she spoke his name low and soft, her frazzled brain slowly putting the pieces together as she looked up at him. “You came in your pants. Untouched. Because of me?”

The boy’s freckled cheeks flooded with color as he blushed. Her normally suave boyfriend seemed embarrassed by this turn of events.

“I may have. You didn’t see yourself. Or hear yourself for that matter. I didn’t realize it was going to happen until it just…happened.”

“That is one of the hottest things you’ve ever done. If we can sneak down to the library floo flame without getting caught, we can make it to the ROR. And I can give you something else to cum in.”

He let out a dark chuckle, looking at her with blown pupils.

“You think this is a game, MC? Hmm? Merlin, I’m gonna get you so fucking pregnant.”

Her eyes widened, and she couldn’t stop the giggle that fell from her lips. She was still giddy as she pulled him down the stairs and towards the floo flame on the back wall.

Thank Merlin for study breaks.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Love is a... | Sebastian x MC

Header image (Sebastian): @starrysallow ✦ 5,439 words ✦ NSFW content (MDNI) ✦ unnamed female MC (no use of y/n), estranged friends to lovers, mild physical confrontation, some angst, oral, masturbation, p in v, tw: choking ✦ Inspired by "Love is A..." - PVRIS ✦ Read it below the cut or on AO3

Events following catastrophe were called fallout for a reason. Oftentimes it wasn’t the disaster itself, but the particles of pain that amassed the body counts, thrown to the heavens and scattered. What goes up, must always come down.

After killing Solomon and being pardoned outside of a court of magical law, based on friendship and honesty at the decision of his closest two friends, Sebastian was never the same. He stopped regular class attendance, prioritized unhealthy friendships, and frequented the restricted section even more. 

She worried, constantly, but each attempt to reconnect and rekindle had been dodged and ignored. Her poor owl probably thought her a right lunatic with the amount of return post that accumulated next to her bedside.

It was as if he breathed in strands of that wretched Killing Curse, and his former self was another casualty of that day. 

Distance was the only solution, and weeks bled to months, then years. Hostilities were built, grudges cemented, and relationships wedged. A lifelong friendship built on mutual trust, obliterated by all counts without salvage. 

It hurt her heart, to say the least. Even Ominis insisted on prioritizing Sebastian’s company, solely out of self-flagellating guilt in believing he could have, somehow, prevented all of this. Now, he felt like it was the best means of maintaining Sebastian’s composure, of averting further tragedy. Eventually, the infrequent study sessions and conversations in the Slytherin common room became a thing of the past. The Undercroft’s clockface locking mechanism collected cobwebs, of time lost and friendships standing still. 

She withdrew; the end of her seventh year approached and she was consumed by the quiet, by research, by exams. By any and all distractions that held her focus long enough to neglect her feelings. 

Until one sleepless evening, as she passed the time in the Slytherin common room, tracing shapes in the condensation on the windows looking out into the Black Lake. The sound of footfalls and deep snickers bit her focus and induced an automatic eye-roll, the tells of men being up to no good. She turned her back to the stairwell, opting out of asking what they were up to at one-thirty in the morning.

Nothing great from the sounds of it. The group halted at the bottom of the stairs, whispered amongst themselves, and let out hushed sounds of approval. And then, the last voice she wanted to hear in the middle of the night beckoned her attention.

“Hello.”

Fucks sake, she thought, hearing Sebastian’s unfortunately familiar tone. His cronies chuckled, and worry started to spread uncomfortably in her chest.

“Leave her be, Sebastian.” 

Relief cooled her blood as Ominis chided his best friend. Nothing wary would occur if he was in their company, that was certain; the heir of Slytherin had a quiet but firm reputation that fellow housemates were keen to avoid fucking around near. She turned, and swallowed hard.

Sebastian was a ghost of his former self, having filled out the straight-up-and-down form of his early teenage years. His black button-down could have used a proper resizing, taut at the biceps, the slightest hint of his undershirt peeking through the first buttonhole. Had they maintained a proper friendship still, she might have found him rather fetching. 

But that was off the table entirely, their friendship long past expiration, the unanswered letters like an obituary in itself.

Sebastian crossed the central chamber of the common room, walking with the subtle saunter of liquid courage and bad influence, smirking with a glassy haze in his eyes. 

He stood far too close to her. “I said, hello.” Terse, unyielding. The firewhisky on his breath branded her cheeks, and at this proximity, she was painfully aware of how much taller than her he’d grown. His little band of brothers hung back much to her relief; Ominis stood between them and the tower of darkness, the only one of them with some decorum (and sobriety)

“What do you want?” She muttered, fists balled at her sides to hide their tremble.

Sebastian feigned a hurt expression but it immediately dissolved, replaced with a terrible implication in his grin. “You.”

His audience chortled, save for Ominis, who seemed to be carefully attuned to whatever Sebastian was about to say next. 

She ignored his forward attempt, cursing herself inwardly for how excited it made her feel. “What happened to you?” She wasn't looking for an answer, at least not immediately. She would have preferred he give it some thought, then approach her the next morning with an explanation (and, perhaps, an apology). “What’s wrong with you? Ever since you-”

Chagrined by her prying question, he reacted abruptly, grabbing her by the throat and pushing her back hard against the window.

His friends seemed perturbed by the action, immediately noping out of any involvement and backing out of the room for what they believed was yet to come. Ominis however took a step towards Sebastian, his wand raised, pulsing red. “Release her, Sebastian.” There was an exercised firmness in his voice as if he’d done this before. She wasn't the least bit surprised. 

What was surprising, however, was her arousal. For his hand to be large enough to cup her throat just right, she thought it unfair. His eyes commanded her gaze, nostrils flared and breath hissed over snarled lips. His words bore grit, and punctuation pronounced. “Watch. your. mouth.”

It was no suggestion, about as much room for argument as was left in her airways for oxygen to travel to and from; next to none. Her jugular pounded against the web of his thumb, and his eyelids fluttered, pupils contracting in the earth of his eyes. 

He knew. He bloody well knew how she was reacting, he had to. It shredded her innocence then, flayed it on the rack and flung her into a pit that the bastard dug himself. 

Sebastian’s lip twitched, the corner tugging upwards into a smirk. Fuck him, she thought before speaking her mind, an emphatically sharp remark cutting a web of spit that landed on his chin. It only broadened his grin, as he wiped it away with his middle finger before swiping it with his tongue.

Her sympathies were with Ominis who had to endure this display of power and obstinate threats. “You’re reprehensible, Sebastian!” he warned as a firm hand clapped his shoulder. “Leave her be. She’s gone through enough already without your mistreatments.”

But she didn't want him to leave her be. She wanted him to mistreat her even more, and leave nothing left.

Mercy was given as Sebastian released her, wringing his hand. He narrowed his eyes as she ran off towards the spiral staircase, leaving before Ominis could provide consolation. Only once she was safely out of eye and earshot did she suck in a breath. She winced, a sting of soreness at her swallow, coughing to clear her stuck esophagus.

But that wasn’t what she fixated on. Instead of fear, she felt curiosity. Instead of warnings heeded, she draped his red flags over her shoulders like expensive silks. 

Deceived into tasting forbidden fruit by a fucking snake. She could have laughed if she weren’t so fixated on the abject deploracy of it all. Every detail was ingrained in memory, down to the searing heat exhaled from his nostrils, fanning her décolletage, his inferno blazing.

And still, tears sprung to her eyes as she ran to the only spot she considered would provide some quiet reprieve…

And somewhere she could moan freely without an audience.

Thankfully the greenhouse was left unlocked, most likely by a fifth-year tasked with watering the dirigible plums after dinner and forgot to lock up. She stepped into the classroom, the humidity warmer than the cold dampness of the Slytherin dungeons, and she found a quiet corner to scoot on her bottom out of sight.

Despicable as it was, her digits committed treason and slipped under the waistband of her pajamas, sinning herself, confessing to those immoralities to please with her pleas. Her eyes wrenched shut in concentration as she drew upon her new little devious spank bank, every reaction cycling on a loop as her wrist bones cracked quietly in her panties with the fervour of her ministrations. And as close as she managed to get herself, with the image of Sebastian tattooed on tight eyelids, she almost cursed out loud when the latch on the greenhouse door clicked with movement.

She wasn't alone anymore.

She might have anticipated Ominis following her in hopes of apologizing on his behalf, but she never would have expected Sebastian to be the one stepping into the greenhouse, not after what transpired minutes ago. Perhaps Ominis talked some sense and ordered him to reconcile in person.

He leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets. “I can see you,” He said quietly, gesturing to her slippers poking out of the shadows. “What are you doing over there? Please, can you come out a moment?”

“Or what?” She replied, still trying to steady her breath, the combination of running and masturbating making it draw shallow. “You going to strangle me again if I don't?”

He exhaled, and… pleaded? “Promise I won't. That… I was out of line. You didn't deserve a moment of that treatment, not ever.”

She frowned, not expecting this change of pace whatsoever. She pushed herself up to stand, quickly wiping her fingers on the inside of her t-shirt, shuffling closer to him while maintaining adequate distance. With the enchanted heat lanterns angled at the massive venomous tentacula nearby, his face was washed with a glow that gave him a false sense of innocence. Her heart ached as she looked attentively at her former best friend for more than she had in over a year. “Sebastian,” she began, crossing her arms. “Can we talk about this in the morning? You’re drunk.”

“Not anymore,” he replied. “Ominis gave me a rather sobering talk.”

“Still.”

He sighed. “Please… we’ve gone too long without hashing this out. There’s a lot I need to say, and I’m certain the same rings true for you as well, no?”

She nodded, chewing her lip. It took several heavy seconds for him to continue, weighed down by the breadth of time spent apart. “I want to start by apologizing for how I threatened you this evening. I had a few drinks, and I wasn’t thinking clearly.” Even though it sounded like he was reading from a rehearsed script, his expression was genuine. “It wasn't right to scare you that way.”

If you only knew, she thought, but she wasn’t about to give him the benefit of the doubt. She looked down and focused on the small hole in the toe of her slipper. “It’s fine,” she replied, nodding. “No. I’m alright. Thank you for checking on me.”

Truth be told, she just wanted him to wrap it up so she could rub one out already. She couldn’t think of anything but his hand on her throat, and it was giving her a fuckton of bad ideas. When she looked up again he was eyeing her curiously, and the hint of narrowness in his gaze made her bottom lip tuck between her teeth.

“What were you doing here before I arrived?” 

She wondered, at that moment, if he’d spent his free time studying legilimency. Her nonchalance did not convince him. The tells were there: flushed face, rumpled pajamas, the drawstring tucked into her waistband. Still, she didn’t want him to know that she was fingerfucking herself before his surprise appearance; Merlin knows what that would do for his ego. She played it off. “Just checking the growth progress on my mallowsweet.” 

“You’re still a piss poor liar.” He huffed, though a shadow of a genuine smile made an appearance as he clasped his hands in front of him. He studied her, stepping closer. “I’ll need to be honest with you now, but I only ask that you be honest with me in return.” 

“You weren’t before?” She raised an eyebrow.

“What? No, yes—- I was being honest there, truly.” He was tripping over words, evidently still feeling some of the alcohol in his system. “I won’t lie to you, promise.” 

After consideration, she nodded. “Okay, what is it?” I’m probably going to regret this, she thought, leaning against a crate of potting soil. 

Sebastian’s expression was thoughtful, the space between his brows creased. It appeared as though he were trying to choose the proper words. “Over the past couple of years, we’ve… well, I haven’t been myself.” The halfhearted scoff from her was not lost on him, but he continued. “Ever since, you know… that, happened, I’ve experienced these disturbing feelings, impulses that make me want to do terrible things. I don't know how to describe them, but they’re not inherently good. Ominis believes I’m dealing with guilt, but it’s not so simple. It’s not that direct.”

His quiet intensity doubled down then, and he looked at her. “I’ve wanted to… to hurt you.” His voice softened as he said your name. “I’ve thought of unimaginable things, truly awful acts that made me consider my very sanity. Things that you would never deserve in a thousand years. And they aren't just passing through.” The words seemed to leave a foul taste on his tongue. “They stick around. No one knows about it, because how could I admit such a thing? Even now I’m trying to cast them out. I don't know if it’s some kind of repressed anger that you decided against turning me in, forcing me to live with the consequences of my actions without trial…”

He shook his head. “Sorry, I’m prattling. I just want you to know, this is the reason I’ve been so… distant, with you. It ate me up inside to stay away and it wasn't fair to you without an explanation, but I couldn't trust myself. Even now, or earlier I mean… I don’t know if these thoughts will go away entirely.” Shame settled into his features. “Still, I miss you. I have missed you, and I miss our friendship. I miss…” 

Sebastian blinked for a moment, and before she could interject he was standing right in front of her, hands on the crate behind her. She was locked in, his strong arms a barrier from freedom, but she wasn't about to attempt escape. To do so would mean she couldn't experience him this close, this intense. He towered over her, swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing. “I miss what could have been. Please, be honest with me…” He took her hand then, dwarfing hers. It made her chest tight as he murmured, and the heart was apparent in his words. “Even knowing what I’ve shared, knowing fully well that I want to fight these feelings for you, would you ever… even want, to be friends again?”

Her mouth fell open slightly, the wind out of her sails. The divisiveness in her was tumultuous, warring between slapping him across the face and shouting profanely for the blind selfishness. True that there was deep anger in her heart, but there was also a void that ran deep, a cut that never healed. She looked up at him, let out a sigh, and wrapped her arms around his torso, her face in his chest.

Sebastian was caught off guard, his inhale caught in his windpipe, but he didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her in return. He held her so tightly she winced, letting out a small groan, but she didn't shy away, hugging him with equal enthusiasm as they swayed with the shared experience of reconnecting a missing piece after far too long. 

“Can you tell me when those thoughts are too much to ignore?” She asked after several seconds, looking up at him, ignoring the heartbeat that skipped attendance as a result. “I don’t want you to leave me again. That… that was the hardest thing to go through. I mean, we did everything together, and then to just, suddenly not…” She sighed. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

His brow furrowed. “Still relentlessly selfless, I see.” He smiled, and when he breathed she was relieved to find his breath no longer carried the smell of firewhisky, instead just purely him. “I swear to you, I’ll never put you in danger ever again. If I need to talk to someone or, I don't know, distract myself. I’d sooner fling myself from the astronomy tower than knowingly cause you harm.”

She nodded, but her mind was ping-ponging an idea around that made her reconsider her sanity. Rationality missed roll call and so when she looked up at Sebastian, when the rest of the world vignetted around him, the kiss happened all on its own. 

And he was just as eager, holding her body close as he consumed in a heat that scalded her resolve. Those fucking hands of his knew precisely where to hold her, where to pull, an indication that he’d imagined this before into his fist under bedsheets. She moaned with a tender kind of tact, fingers laced in his hair, practically pulling him into her petite form.

He parted to catch his breath moments later, cheeks and nose ruddy with blood flush. “This is okay?” His eyes flickered about her face, honing in on any evidence of disagreement in her expression. “I promise I won’t be rough with you, I--”

“Sebastian,” She murmured, tracing his clavicle as she spoke. Time to come clean. With any luck, he wouldn't be horrified of her. “I… I liked it… when you choked me.”

Brown eyes blinked, and she could practically see the cogs in his head struggle to make a full rotation around her admission. “You… you enjoyed that? But--”

“I loved it.” 

His lips parted then, and she saw a new look in his eyes. Perhaps this was what he sought to keep buried from her and yet here she was, laying in the very mound of dirt he turned up. 

So much is communicated in their gaze. His expression changes, and the paradigm shifts. “Yeah?” His voice has a hint of heat, a sample of what is to come, and the way he comes to terms with this burned slowly in her belly. “You like rough stuff?”

Her face flamed. “I-I never knew… But when you…”

The thought clicked then, and he tilted his head. “…what did you say you were doing in here, again?” 

“…I didn’t.” 

A slow smirk of understanding spread and remained in place, even as his lips crashed into hers. He kissed her with more insistence this time, harder, more ragged breaths than taking her breath away. Sebastian leaned into it, teasing her with his words. “What a little imp you are, scurrying off to rub one out. I’m surprised you didn’t go to your dormitory, where I wouldn’t be able to find you, left to your own devices…”

She gasped as those tactile fucking hands of his settled at her hips, fisting the waistband of her pajamas so hard the woven texture and seams of the fabric left indentations on his palms. Her hands were put to good use then as well, attempting to unbutton his shirt without breaking their kiss, a feat in itself considering how little thought was in her brain regarding anything that wasn’t connected to his body. Sebastian resumed his little wordplay while she untucked his shirt from his trousers. “Someone’s eager, aren’t we?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, and he chuckled while swatting her hands away from his nearly open shirt, grabbing and hoisting her to sit on the crate. Her legs snapped open immediately and Sebastian let out the most beautiful breathy groan, leaning into her as his lips descended the column of her neck. The humidity of the greenhouse gathered a whisper of perspiration along their brows, but the heat between them was something else entirely. Finally undoing his shirt in her conquest, it fell from his shoulders and she couldn’t help but drink him in. “Sebastian, you’re…”

He seemed a touch vulnerable at that moment, but it faded lightning fast as he grabbed the hem of his undershirt and pulled it over his head.

Her brain was rendered a useless mound of matter as she ran her hands over his defined chest, her eyes darting to the enticing trail of hair that disappeared into his trousers. 

“Fuck,” she breathed, and her intrigue spurred him on, fed the deviant within. His hand slid up her torso, deliberately over a braless breast, settling to hold her throat. The other, however, buried between her legs and cupped her mound from over her pajamas. 

The sound she made was positively primal, and she crushed her bottom lip between her teeth as he applied pressure, rubbing his fingers in devastatingly slow circles that made her hips buck. He leaned in close to her ear as she whimpered, nipping a lobe. “That's my girl… sing for me.” 

So she did, letting the moans out freely as he tightened his grip on her neck. Her back arched as his thumb pressed into the side of her throat, and the sensation made her acutely aware of her heartbeat. It throbbed in her head and her sex, her mouth agape as his dark eyes watched her reactions, and the wicked grin he gave her pronounced his excitement. “You like that?” He asked, voice hoarse and low, laden with lust. “You like how I touch you like this?”

She nodded eagerly, trying to control the friction between her legs with more measured motions, and he obliged with enough pressure that her wetness began to wick through the fabric, ample and abundant. “Merlin, you’re already so wet for me.” The way he spoke to her was nothing short of sinful, his voice reaching a lower pitch she’d never heard before. He sped up, letting her rock into his palm as he varied the pressure on her carotid. She could come just like this, pathetic and whining and without having taken any clothing off yet. 

Sebastian seemed intent on making sure she did just that. He leaned down to mouth a nipple from over her thin t-shirt, pulling another beautiful sound of pleasure from her mouth. The cotton wet with his lips around her pebbled peak and it throttled her impending orgasm. Her moans ascended in pitch, and just as she came the hand on her throat loosened. Her climax rocketed through her then, echoing sharply off the glass panels of the greenhouse, and if anyone were in the immediate proximity they would surely know it wasn't the sound of a mandrake that wriggled loose from its pot. Thighs spasming and tight to his sides, she rode out her release against his hand, the soaked crotch of her pajamas goading him on. 

His mouth disconnected from her, capturing her lips in an almost desperate kiss, despite the confidence in his tone. “You’re beautiful when you come for me,” Sebastian purred, and he finally pulled off her shirt, baring her chest. His quiet exhale signaled his enjoyment. “Fuck, look at you…”

“You like what you see?” She found her voice mingled with a new sense of boldness as she palmed her breasts for him, giving him a rightful show. Sebastian uttered an expletive to voice his approval and eagerly claimed her lips in a breathtaking kiss as he undid his belt. 

“God, yes,” his response was airy and rough. “Look what you do to me…”

And look she did, as he untucked himself from his underwear, practically twitching with the reflex of his abs clenching, his cock so hard it could crush diamonds to dust. She bit her bottom lip as he palmed his member, a groan born deep in his chest as she scooted off the crate and sunk to her knees in front of him, the cobblestone floor biting her joints. His cock bobbed at the most beautiful fucking sight he ever saw, and with an eager grasp at his base, she took the tip past her lips.

Sebastian’s head lulled back as he let out a quiet “unh,” drawn out once she slid the rest of his length into her mouth. She took his wrists then, bringing them behind her head, and his body knew precisely what to do as his fingers combed through her hair. With an abrupt thrust, he pushed deep into her eager mouth, and the moan that vibrated around his girth was all the encouragement he needed to repeat the motion. He imparted a slow, but intense pace, and she kept up with a slacked jaw and willing tongue. His cock glistened as it slid past her lips, a delicious mix of her saliva and his precum dribbling down her chin as she let him fuck her pretty mouth. The tip hammered the back of her throat and the sound she made to suppress her gag reflex stirred something in his chest, as if the nature of his ability to determine true love had some dirty little kinks of its own. 

Then again, looking down into her eyes, gone glassy with the effort of her fellation, he had to wonder. 

She didn't offer much room for second thoughts as she bobbed forward, taking him to the very base and then some, her nose pressed into the tufts of hair at his pubic bone. He held her there as she swallowed around his cock, her throat clenched as she sucked hard. With her airways constricted her breath was caught with nowhere to go and she properly choked, her face going red. Sebastian had never experienced something this intense, and he panted with balled fists in her hair to pull tightly. 

His hips snapped, withdrawing from her mouth as she sucked in a breath, so quickly that she coughed from the rush of air. “While I’d love to keep fucking your mouth,” he grinned, and she swore she saw the devil himself, “I need you to come around my cock while I choke that pretty little throat of yours.”

His words were music to her ears. She obliged, and he pulled her up by the hair to stand again, attacking her lips, all teeth and tongues. His fingernails scratched her hips as he wrenched her pajama bottoms down, her panties joining them at her ankles before he lifted her onto the crate again. The wood scraped her bottom but she had no room to protest as his cock commanded her attention, dragging deliciously between her puffy folds. “Sebastian, please,” she mewled almost pathetically, angling her hips in hopes of slipping him in on her own. 

“Oh sweetheart,” he sighed softly, “you’re so wet…”

An unexpected moment of tenderness claimed his senses then and he looked up, their gazes meeting, hearts swelling. He cupped her cheek, swiping a spot of spit from her chin as he leaned in to kiss her with a softness that he wasn't accustomed to. For all the pain he’d known, for all the darkness that stained his being, she was the safe space to embrace. 

And he dare not let go of her. Not again. Not ever.

Her name fell from his lips as he slid inside of her. She hissed quietly as she acclimated to his length, testing his girth with a tightness that sent shivers up her spine. He rolled his hips, and she faced the heavens.

Sebastian was an intense lover, she discovered, his forehead pressed to hers as he fucked her deep, rocking on her ass with his eager motions. She was keen to contribute, her legs pretzeled around his waist, hands gripping his biceps for support, holding on for the ride of her life. Her plush warmth enveloped his cock, a silken heat that pulled him in. Their pace was perfection, enough to build their pleasure without losing traction. 

“Mm, here.” He scooped her up at the bottom, carrying her effortlessly to a nearby workstation, gesturing her to lay her back on the desktop. “I wanna see all of you…”

He grabbed her hips with an almost bruising firmness and continued to fuck her on the workstation, watching his cock pump in and out of her, and she realized with a soft chuckle why he’d chosen this specific desk. No doubt this was a slight dig at her previous crush during their third year, Leander fucking Prewett, when Sebastian had caught them snogging outside the entrance to their common room. He’d teased her relentlessly for it, and now she had half a mind to wonder if it was a little crush of his own developing back then. His wicked grin implied they were on the same page. “You little shit,” she chuckled, but it cut off as he slammed inside, pulling an especially loud moan from her. No room for Gryffindor thoughts in this snake pit. 

Sebastian’s gaze darkened with lust, his hair tousled along his forehead. One of those perfect hands claimed her throat as he shrouded her. “Yes,” she rasped, and he clasped firmly, squeezing precisely where he had to to get her heart thundering through her temples. She realized then, as her pulse became dangerously loud behind her ears, that he was timing his thrusts to her heartbeat. Her back arched with the increased pace, a symphony of gargled moans singing his praises as she quickly ascended the peak of an approaching climax. “Sebastian, I’m—I’m close…”

“I know,” he replied, unyielding in his motions. The edges of her vision greyed, and before she could protest the impending blackout, he eased his grip. At the precise moment that oxygenated blood returned to her brain, she came hard around his cock, hollering his name as she convulsed on the desk. Sebastian didn't stop, however, chasing the tails of his release with reckless abandon, hips pistoning so hard the table jostled and scraped against the floor. When he did come he punctuated it with a growled expletive, holding his hips flush to hers as her spent, quivering sex milked him for all he could give. 

He collapsed onto her chest, kissing her sternum between shallow breaths. “You felt so, so good,” he whispered, craning his neck to offer breathless kisses as she cradled his head adoringly. She gestured to sit upright and he pulled out, sooner than he’d wanted, but he could tell by her soft groan that the firm surface had to be brutal on her spine. 

Instead, she held him, melting into another appreciative kiss. “As did you. That was… I never knew it could feel like that.”

Sebastian chuckled, nosing her cheek with affection. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have left you alone after all.”

Her smile faltered, and he caught the echo of pain behind her eyes. “Sorry, I… I should have talked to you about this sooner. I was wrong to have shut you out this way. I was only trying to ensure your safety.” His thumb brushed her bottom lip. “I’ll make it up to you, for lost time.”

“You better,” she grinned again, this time with fondness as she brushed the bangs back from his forehead. “And, maybe… we can keep exploring these new enjoyments together. Perhaps by letting you indulge in some rougher activities, it will help.”

Sebastian nodded slowly. “You’d want to do that for me?”

“Of course I would,” She replied without hesitation. “What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t offer my assistance?”

A strong brow raised at that, and he smirked. “Oh, is this currently what you would define as friend behaviour between us?” he gestured to their naked forms, flushed pink with post-sex afterglow, glistening with a sheen of sweat. “Merlin, you’ve become awfully chummy.”

She rolled her eyes, thanking him wordlessly as he helped put her shirt back on before retrieving his own. “So you’re assuming I’m you’re girlfriend now or something?”

“Will you?” 

She caught it; fleeting, but there nevertheless, a fond expression that brought back memories of his younger years, a boyish charm that captured her heart long ago. Her Sebastian was still living, hidden beneath layers of tarnish and grime, but certainly there, and she would polish him back to his original splendour and shine. She nodded, and they made plans to meet again sooner rather than later because later was an awful prospect in this touching moment of reunion.

She left the greenhouse with his hand in hers, a changed woman, gladly leaving the bodies of their former selves on the floor, all akimbo and forgotten, a distraction for the pain of the past to feast upon, releasing them from the confines of their creation.

Love is a murder, after all.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Hi, it’s Michelle! I have a fluffy idea I hope you like! I know you have a lot of requests and you’ve already done a couple of mine so please take as long as you need if you do like it!

After a party in the Slytherin common room, Sebastian is escorting very drunk!MC (his best friend and crush) to bed. They’re climbing the steps to the female dorms when they suddenly turn into a slippery slide, causing them to fall. She’s drunk-confused until he explains it must be to keep boys out. Despite his protests, and her inability to steadily walk without assistance, she’s way too confident she can make it up herself. He nervously waits at the bottom, ready to catch her when she inevitably falls. I can picture her finding the whole situation hilarious while poor Seb is trying to make sure she doesn’t injure herself 😂

It’s pretty late and no other girls are up to help her. Only some older boys are still in the common room, one of which Seb noticed has been eyeing her, so he’s not comfy with her staying there (he’s too tired to trust himself to stay awake to watch her) and realizes he has no choice but to take her to bed with him. The boys whistle or make a suggestive/lewd comment at the pair when they see them heading for his dorm. Although he hates their assumption he’d try anything in her state (he’s planning to sleep on the floor like a gentleman after all), his possessiveness does like that that one boy will now think she’s his.

Unsurprisingly, she won’t let him sleep on the cold stone floor. To make this even more interesting, she happens to be a cuddly/affectionate drunk who basically attaches herself to him the second he gets in bed. He kinda freezes up, and not much time passes before she starts bawling her eyes out because how dare he try to be chivalrous and not cuddle her! He hates seeing her cry, whatever will he do?! Full permission to kill us with fluff! A forehead kiss somewhere in here would destroy me.

Thank you so much, I really hope you like this one! You do such an amazing job putting everyone’s ideas to life and I love everything you’ve written! I still re-read my previous requests and some of my other favs every so often!

Hello, Michelle!

I want to apologize for the unforgivably long time this took - I'm terrible.

I really do love this plot, though, and I enjoyed writing a fluffy little Sebastian trying to navigate coaxing his drunk pain-in-the-ass to sleep!

Thank you so much for another adorable and lovely idea - I hope you enjoy!

Word count ~ 2500

Content Warning: Alcohol, vulnerable and intoxicated situations

A Bit Too Much

A party in the Slytherin Common Room was like no other, or at least that's what they told themselves as bottle after bottle of firewhiskey vanished down the gullets of every miscreant wearing silver and green that evening.

What better way to blow off steam and celebrate the end of another grueling exam season than by way of getting blackout drunk together.

A splendid idea at first.

But then, as Sebastian watched his darling friend stumble and giggle her way haphazardly toward the dormitories, drunker than any boozehound he'd seen out back of the Hog's Head, he sighed and groaned with growing concern.

“This must be how a mother feels watching her toddling child flail about for the first time…” He mused under his breath, a slight smile tugging at his lips despite it all.

She really was spectacular, even in her most unladylike moments.

Uniform askew from when she'd challenged Imelda to a playful scuffle earlier in the evening, she laughed to herself and dizzily groped for the walls, playfully shoving Sebastian away each time he tried to help her to the stairs leading to her bed. It was only when she'd gracelessly fallen to her knees for the third time that she flopped down like a child and sprawled out across the floor, demanding to be carried, that she finally allowed his assistance.

“You should have let me do that from the start, love. Come on, up you go -” He grunted out, hoisting her back to her feet and casting a wary look toward her as she muttered something about feeling a bit queasy.

A moment of standing still, however, and her nausea subsided as she yawned, wide as a nundu, and simply leaned against him sleepily. 

Sebastian snaked his arm around her waist, supporting her weight and thanking every deity known to man and wizardkind alike that he'd been blessed with such a golden opportunity. It wasn't every day one had the girl they fancied thrust neatly into their lap, demanding to be escorted to bed.

While he had every intention of depositing her in said bed, eager to pester his hungover companion during breakfast the next day about the vast array of colorful things she'd spouted all night, his plans fell woefully short the moment his feet touched the stairs leading up to the girls’ dorms.

Sebastian had never seen a need to try and enter a witch's bedroom before. He had a sister, after all, and was intimately familiar with the horrors females kept locked away amongst their frilly bedding and lacy clothes.

As such, it came as a jarring and painful surprise when the very same stairs he sought to climb turned flat and slick as ice, sending both himself and his intoxicated sweetheart face-first onto the floor.

With twin groans, they righted themselves and sat up, disoriented. 

“Merlin's beard… I forgot about that.” She whimpered out, rubbing her reddened nose with a petulant scowl.

Sebastian raised a brow at hee, equally annoyed and curious by now. “Forgot about what?”

“The enchantment on the stairs - keeps nasty boys out.” She said, gesturing lazily with her other hand toward the stairs, which had since reverted back to their normal state.

That didn't make sense, though - he'd seen loads of girls come into their dormitories. Ties on doorknobs, bashful witches skulking out from under bedsheets just before dawn…

Even Anne had once slipped into his dorm to sneak several dungbombs into his and Ominis's pillowcases.

He said as much to the girl now slumped against him, and she reached a hand up to weakly smack the side of his head.

“Of course it's not on the boys' dorms, you dummy. Read your school history book instead of all your creepy tomes on ways to curse people.” She slurred out.

Sebastian snorted and shook his head, swatting her hand away. The alcohol certainly hadn't dulled her tongue much.

“Well, you're not going up those stairs on your own when you can't even navigate a straight line without taking a tumble. Come on, back to the Common Room with you - I'll get you settled on a couch by the fire.” He said, delicately pulling her back to her feet and half-carrying her dead weight the way they came, disregarding her protests and assurances that she'd be just fine to go up a couple stairs.

He also ignored the rather lewd stream of suggestions that he find a spell to alter his anatomy so that he could simply accompany her.

“I don't want to sleep on a damn couch - I want a proper bed!” She whined belligerently but did not struggle as he guided her.

Sebastian paused as they re-entered the Common Room, brow furrowed.

“You just might get your wish.” He muttered under his breath.

There, feet propped up on the chess table and shrouded in green light from the lakeside window, was the seventh year responsible for Sebastian opting not to partake in any drinking games that evening. 

Sharp features and a hawklike gaze fixated on the girl Sebastian now tucked protectively against his side. The older boy had tried several times over to male a pass at her, growing bolder as she grew drunker. More than once, he'd dared to put his hands on her, sweeping her hair behind her ear and whispering undoubtedly unsavory things.

Sebastian had made it a point to attach himself firmly and menacingly to her hip after the other boy attempted to tug her out of the Common Room alone with him, saying something about wanting to show her the Prefects’ bath.

Sebastian locked eyes with the boy and his scattered friends throughout the Common Room, the once lively domain now carrying a sense of very real danger for a vulnerable young witch, and he simply kept walking, hauling her swiftly toward the boys’ dorms.

His face burned under the scrutinizing stares and crude catcalls of the few others remaining awake, but he'd gladly take a hit to his reputation if it meant keeping her safe. 

As insulting as it was that they viewed him to be the type that would take advantage of her, let alone anyone in such a vile way, Sebastian couldn't deny the slight, possessive pride that they were envious - thinking she'd chosen him despite their efforts.

He'd set the record straight come morning, of course, not willing to allow her reputation to suffer any damage. Not that she'd ever think for a moment he would harm her, but he'd ensure she woke up alone in a bed with a glass of water and her virtue unquestionably intact.

A witch was allowed to enjoy a night with her peers and expect to come out unscathed and looked after.

For now, though, Sebastian tugged her tighter against his side, protective, and all but hauled her into his dorm room.

It was dark inside, three of the beds empty - one being his own - and the only occupied section of room was a softly snoring Ominis, cocooned in his sheets and noise muffling charm already in place to drown out the festivities. Sebastian chuckled fondly, shaking his head at his best friend, always the first to sleep.

Then, his attention was drawn back to the petite young thing at his side, drooping now more than ever at the prospect of a soft place to lay her head. A few demanding tugs from her small frame had him escorting her over to his bed as he dumped her into it indelicately.

Then, he bent down to rid her of her shoes - chucking them onto the floor in a clatter to provide her at least some comfort considering she would be bedding down in her uniform.

His eyebrows shot up in amused surprise at how easily she settled into a comfortable position, not even remotely concerned with her surroundings. Curling up, hugging the pillow tightly to her, she muttered some incoherent words of appreciation while Sebastian merely tutted at her disheveled state. 

She really was adorable - and far too trusting.

Though he liked to think her faith was well-placed with him, at least.

With an exasperated, fond sigh, Sebastian leaned over and pried one of his pillows free from her drunken nest, as well as a blanket, and tossed them on the floor beside the bed. Not an ideal spot to set up camp for the evening, particularly since he was still wary of her spewing the contents of her absolutely fermented insides onto him, but at least he'd be there to keep an eye on her.

No good deed goes unpunished, after all…

And as fate would have it, Sebastian was sure he was being punished immensely when he moved to lay on the floor, and her hand grabbed his forearm in a vice grip. He barely had a moment to register the unexpected contact before she pulled him roughly into bed with her.

Sebastian yelped out, startled, and instantly attempted to extricate himself from the tangle of stubborn limbs that made up his friend.

“Stronger tentacles than a damn squid - what are you even made of, you brute?” He hissed out, prying loose one of her hands only for her legs to pin him down.

They struggled like that for some time, Sebastian flustered and annoyed while she giggled and refused to let him break free.

Eventually, sweaty and far too tired to put up anymore fight in a losing battle after she'd tearfully demanded he stay, Sebastian simply flopped down and remained motionless in the bed. She curled up tightly to him, a leg sprawled over both of his, her arms tugging him in a loose embrace, and her head rested on his chest.

The soft, amused snickers she vibrated with might have been endearing had her wild mess of hair not tickled his nose so much. She really was in a ludicrous state.

It was a difficult enough task just coaxing her into a proper spot to sleep off her inebriation, but now Sebastian needed to cope with a whole slew of new troubles - for one, the overwhelming scent of her shampoo assaulting his senses while he fought against every urge in his body to ignore the presence of the girl he pined for wrapped around him so intimately.

He wouldn't abuse her trust, though - not like this.

Summoning immense restraint, Sebastian gritted his teeth and shut his eyes, willing her to just go to sleep already so he might slip out of her clutches. It was so unlike her to be this physically affectionate and, while not unwelcome on its own, he'd much rather she do this sober.

She did not sleep, unfortunately, instead clutching him tighter like a teddy bear while she sighed.

“You smell nice.” She mused, voice thick with sleep.

Absolute minx.

“And you smell like whiskey. Go to sleep, will you? You're going to have a miserable enough morning as it is.” He whispered back, craning his neck at an angle to escape smelling the pleasant rosewater aroma still lingering in her hair.

Her body was stiflingly hot, and the suffocating feeling of having her so near only served to stoke the flames of his horrific blush.

What he wouldn't do for a cold shower and a veritable lake’s worth of chilled pumpkin juice right then.

“No sneaking off.” She chided, inexplicably able to read his mind as she held him tighter. “I like you, you know.”

The short few words and the fragile way in which she said them sent Sebastian into a spiral of elation, confusion, and sheer annoyance.

How dare she say something like that so sweetly when they were in such a position. He couldn't even ask on it or take her seriously!

“Damn you.” He groaned out, kissing any hope of sleep that night goodbye as he reeled.

As if hellbent on making matters worse, she spoke up again.

“Can I have a kiss?”

Sebastian practically jumped out of his skin, soul leaving his body entirely when he stared down at her, aghast, as she blinked innocently up at him from his chest she'd claimed as a pillow. Those bright eyes fixed on him as she asked her question again, so shamelessly, nearly had him complying.

Sebastian gripped the sheet with his hands and forced himself to look away from her flushed, pleading gaze.

“Go to sleep, you lush. I mean it - I'll make you sleep on the floor if you keep at it.” He muttered, weak to her whims and barely clinging to his moral fiber. 

She whined then and loudly whispered a pathetically drawn-out, “Please? Just one kiss from the boy I like?”

Sebastian whined as well, wondering just what he'd done in a past life to earn himself this particular brand of torture before groaning in extreme frustration.

“Fine.”

In a swift flurry of bedding and limbs, he had her pinned on her back to the bed, giggling delightedly once more with that crooked grin beaming up at him. Sebastian straddled her waist, keeping his hands clasped tightly around her wrists, which were now above her head on the pillow.

He was being tortured, and she had the audacity to look as if this night was going entirely to plan.

“You're having the time of your life, aren't you?” He accused, and she laughed once more and nodded.

Leave it to his favorite idiot to truly have no sense of self-preservation in even the most sensitive of situations.

He leaned down and fixed her with a stern gaze of his own.

“If I kiss you, do you promise to be a good girl and go to sleep?” Sebastian asked, speaking slowly and watching her carefully.

Once more, she nodded. “Yes, I promise! Now hurry up and kiss me - I'm tired!”

Cheeky little shit.

With a long-suffering sigh, Sebastian lowered himself to her face, watching as her eyes fluttered closed. Her soft breath hit his throat, and his own breath caught. The room was so still and silent while he pondered over how he'd gotten into this mess.

She really was so careless…

Then, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting his lips rest there a moment before pulling back.

And true to her word, she did, in fact, fall asleep almost immediately, a light smile on her face.

Relieved, Sebastian gingerly repositioned himself beside her on the bed once more. He tugged one of the rumpled sheets back up and over them, sliding his arm under her pillow.

What an absolute menace he'd fallen for, but she really was awfully precious when she wasn't kicking up a fuss.

Feeling his own nerves ease now that she was obediently resting, Sebastian's eyes grew heavy as well, and he yawned, sinking down into the mattress.

He'd get his revenge in the morning. Perhaps by waking her with a pillow to the face. Then, when she swore and whined, he'd actually kiss the frown from her lips.

For now, though, having her safe and by his side was more than enough.

He really was fond of year-end parties.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Me after DEVOURING this fic

Hi! I am so obsessed with your stories and just binge them repeatedly.

I have a prompt idea.. I love love the idea of Seb x f!MC being soulmates and them finding out and discovering what it means for them to be actual soulmates. Theres not enough of these out there and I'd adore to read your take on it!

HELLO!

(Tagging you @moongurl95 because I don't think it will alert you otherwise to your ask)!

So, I actually had a little bit of a story that turned into a bigger than anticipated fic - it wound up encompassing all three of these ideas in a way that I'd like to share with you all.

I really enjoyed this fic, and the theme of lpvers simply meant for each other finding their way back together no matter what.

I hope this ooey, gooey, fluffy fic males you melt the way it got to me, too.

Thank you so much for allowing me to fulfill these lovely prompts.

Word count: ~5100

Content Warning: Non-explicit sexual content, mentions of death

Better Late Than Never

The girl was small, like Anne.

She was also quiet and shy - not like Anne.

When Sebastian treated her much the same way as he had his twin sister, ripping the book from her pudgy little hands so that he could flip through the pages instead, he'd expected her to cry and pitch a fit. Maybe smack him and try to grab it back. 

No, she simply stared up at him, wide eyes expectant while he scrunched his face in confusion until he realized what she wanted from him.

This impromptu playmate his parents saddled him with expected Sebastian to read to her.

He balked, looking to his mother and father to help him out of the situation, and upon seeing that they were preoccupied with their editors - the girl's parents - and that Anne was busy shrieking and chasing the editors’ crup around the small cottage, he sighed and plopped down on the floor next to the girl.

And began to read.

Time passed so swiftly after that, and Sebastian hadn't even realized the sun was setting and his parents were packing up their journals and notes until his father’s broad, calloused hand ruffled his hair affectionately and stirred him from his reading. The girl hadn't so much as made a peep for the entire time, simply listening, enraptured, while he read the story aloud to her.

While his sister and the neighbor children Sebastian was used to preferred yelling and chasing after each other, it was uncommonly serene to enjoy a day with a child his age who simply wanted to sit and listen to him. He didn't mind nearly as much as he thought he would, reading the words and having to stumble over the pronunciations for everyone to hear.

In fact, it was actually quite fun.

He nagged his chuckling parents to let him stay over longer - a far cry from his complaints just that morning about not wanting to waste away an entire day cooped up in their colleagues’ rural mountain cottage.

They promised him that he could come back next time as well, the now-crying girl's own parents assuring her that they'd set up another play date with Sebastian soon.

Sebastian reached up to hold his mother's hand while she led him out the door, his father carrying a passed out Anne whose face was still smudged with chocolate from her solo binge in the kitchen.

Such a lovely day and a peaceful end, and the last time the Sallows were together as a whole, because that very same night their parents worked late in the basement to finish up their notes, and never emerged.

-

The girl came to their funeral, quiet and shy as ever while she clung tightly to her mother's stockings.

Sebastian might have thought it was cute, the way she peeked around to look at him, unsure of what was happening and how she ought to behave.

Might have - had he not been so preoccupied with his and Anne's newfound status as orphans.

Such a bitter reality, knowing that their doting parents were encased in matching pine boxes, covered so that the mass gathering of loved ones could not see the state in which the couple departed.

Sebastian had seen it, though - all shattered glass and dark crimson and gasping breaths before they passed. The thestrals that pulled the carriage containing their corpses stamped the ground nearby, huffing impatiently through their nostrils to be fed.

He thought they were grotesque, bony things. Not the comforting, mournful creatures representing solemn remembrance his father once described them as. While Sebastian understood death by then, clutching Anne tightly to him while they watched the caskets slowly vanish into the earth, he never expected it to leave him feeling such a void.

What were they even to do without their parents? Would the editors take the stranded twins into their home? They'd been the first ones he'd thought to send an owl for when he found his parents, after all, and they'd made the funeral arrangements, and each taken turns staying over with the twins.

His answer came swiftly at the end of the service, however, when he tugged Anne’s quivering hand to go to them - to possibly find some semblance of comfort in the uncertain little girl and her scholarly parents and their naughty crup.

But then a firm hand, not unlike his father’s, gripped his shoulder and stopped him.

And steered him far away from his predictions of a life in a cheerful mountain home and straight to the miserable, poverty-stricken hamlet of Feldcroft, with an uncle who looked like his father but shared none of his qualities.

-

While he'd thought of the girl periodically, dreamed of her, and even asked Solomon about her once or twice over the first year, he never actually saw her again. His uncle flew off the handle when Sebastian had the gall to ask if he might set up a play date, as his parents promised before their untimely demise. 

The subsequent scolding he received for daring to ask to go near anyone tangled up in the research which stole his parents away and saddled Solomon with two brats was the very first time in Sebastian's young life he'd ever been yelled at. From then on, he did not mention the girl nor his parents around his volatile uncle, hoping to shield himself and Anne from any future outbursts.

He did still dream of her, though, even long after he forgot her name.

Something tugged at him to remember her in any capacity, like a splinter embedded too deeply to pluck loose. Her bright eyes and precocious expression distracted his thoughts at unexpected intervals while he attempted to adjust to life in Feldcroft without his parents.

Knowing there was simply no way to ask for her  however, he pushed her further and further down until the girl who'd made such an uncannily strong impression on his life faded into oblivion.

The next time he saw her was far too long later to have been anything meaningful, though, and he well and truly had forgotten everything about her. 

A trip to Diagon Alley with their begrudging uncle was the most fun he and Anne enjoyed in years, and while they frolicked through the streets, ducking in and out of shops in preparation for their first year at Hogwarts - far from Solomon and the bleak hamlet they now reluctantly called home - a flash of familiar hair caught Sebastian's attention.

Trailing after her mother, both witches laughing while they dodged through the busy streets in the opposite direction, Sebastian felt an ache like never before. His feet moved before his brain could catch up, his body instinctively readying itself to chase her down.

He recalled her then, and the few pleasurable times he'd visited her family as a child, back when his own family was whole and he could still smile with the same bright joy she radiated.

Breaking into a sprint, forgetting his sister and uncle and haphazardly dropping his bags onto the cobblestone, Sebastian darted toward her and reached out a hand to grab her arm, uncertain of the reason behind his desperation but yielding to it nonetheless.

His fingers just barely ghosted the fabric of her ruffled sleeve before he found himself yanked unceremoniously backward by Solomon's vice grip.

It only took a second - a single blink, really - but she was gone and vanished like an apparition when Sebastian righted himself, and he was left wondering if he'd imagined the whole scene while he tuned out his uncle's endlessly condescending tirade.

Gloomily, he sulked back over to his bags, scooped them up, and carried on with his shopping in dampened spirits.

-

Sebastian could not have given one singular shit about the Triwizard Tournament.

It wasn't like he or anyone he even liked was participating. The new student he'd befriended in their prior year, and subsequently traumatized, had lost their taste for adventure and opted out of even submitting their name to the goblet - as had he. 

Thus, he did not care about the seventh year Ravenclaw student who sought glory for their House and school, and while he did have the good grace to attend the trials, Sebastian could hardly convince himself he was invested in the outcome.

Anne was still cursed and missing, his uncle buried in a shallow grave next to the cottage he now inhabited alone, and there was very little good in the small world he was forced to stumble through anymore. What did frivolous competitions where students willingly raced to death's doorstep matter to a boy so intimately acquainted with taking lives and risking his own?

Still, there was one portion of the multi-school event even someone as jaded as Sebastian was not immune to being charmed by.

The girls.

While he was far more comfortable viewing them from a distance, the visiting witches flitting about the castle were undoubtedly a sight for sore eyes. Pretty little skirts and unusual accents graced their halls and offered a most welcome change of scenery, and Sebastian found himself swiftly taken by their esteemed guests.

One had even been kind enough to grace him with her company during the Yule Ball - a darling creature from France of all places. She'd been the one to ask him, a soothing lilt in her voice caressing his ear in the hall one fortuitous afternoon, and he'd barely swallowed his fluttering heart back into his chest when he agreed to be her date.

From then on, the other girls mattered very little, and Sebastian had a singular focus on wooing this captivating new friend.

Even lovelier was the sight of his raven-haired beauty in her gown the night of the Ball, dressed far lovelier than any of the others in his humble opinion. His favorite accessory of hers was himself on her arm throughout the evening, enjoying the music with practiced dance steps while he put on a great show of fetching her drinks and food and ensuring she had the night of her life.

When it came time to wind down, many students filing out of the decorated hall to get to bed, he and his date lingered behind, sneaking into the snowy courtyard when the faculty, possibly intentionally, turned a blind eye to their deviance. 

In a gentlemanly fashion, Sebastian shrugged off his outer robe and draped it over her slender shoulders to protect her from the chill, guiding her to a more secluded corner so he might steal a kiss.

He'd very nearly claimed that first bit of action, except for the fact that their rendezvous was interrupted by a soft sniffle from the other side of the frozen fountain. They might not have even heard it in the first place had Sebastian not shushed his date’s giggles, but once they both turned to stare curiously at the source of the sound, all hopes for a steamy end to the night were dashed when his date raced across the white courtyard and crouched down, whispering to whoever was on the other side of the stone structure.

Her best friend, she'd explained after standing to call across the yard to him, appeared to be having a rough evening. A date gone awry, something about ill-mannered Scottish boys, and Sebastisn was left gaping and wanting while he watched his pretty little thing guide the sobbing girl out of the courtyard.

It was only as the two Beauxbatons witches slipped back through the heavy wooden doors that something tugged at Sebastian's memories. A brief flash of a little girl pulling at her mother's black skirt, tearful and frightened at his parents’ funeral.

The crying girl stirred something long forgotten in his chest, and he was unsure if he felt more bitter about the sour end to his perfect date, or that he hadn't paid any attention to the other visiting students.

Something told him he should have spent his efforts on that crying girl, face obscured by her strangely familiar hair and her dress soaked through from the snow and her weeping.

That same impossible nagging sensation practically screamed at him that she'd have been smiling had it been him instead of whatever miserable bastard she'd deigned to let escort her - he wanted to chase after her and console her, inexplicably, but Sebastian remained rooted to the spot.

This was insane.

It wasn't the same girl - there was no way.

Even if, by some miraculous coincidence, she was that same wisp of a memory made tangible, she wouldn't remember him. The depth of his feelings for someone he had not seen since he was a child made no sense, and he wasn't about to try and explain something to a sobbing wreck of a girl that he himself couldn't wrap his head around.

So, with a groan, he stalked back off to the dungeons to mull over how utterly disappointing the night turned out.

The two witches took off for their homes the following morning and did not return, their Headmaster explaining a few of his students were homesick.

Or heartbroken, Sebastian reckoned.

So, Sebastian simply settled for never knowing.

He was used to letting things go by then.

But a distinct chunk from his chest felt like it journeyed back to France with her.

-

Seventh year came and went in the blink of an eye, much of Sebastian's attention spent on his internship with the Ministry as he prepared to step into the role of Curse Breaker after graduation.

He'd barely had time to focus on much else beyond his studies and training with Ministry-assigned mentors to dwell on the less savory facets of his life.

Intentional, really.

His somber attitude and crippling insomnia lessened if he exhausted himself with studies and work, after all, and by the end of term, he actually felt a bit lighter.

The internship proved to be one of the best decisions he'd ever made - fitting in seamlessly with his elders as he dazzled them with knowledge well beyond his years, and in turn they challenged him with far more advanced projects than initially planned. For once, Sebastian felt like he was doing something right.

Every achievement was met with praise rather than casual expectation. His curiosity was encouraged rather than punished or treated with disdain. For the first time in a long time, the future looked bright - he could make an impact and maybe, just maybe, be happy with his place in the world.

Until the final day of his internship.

While he'd been the only student interested in taking on a spot with the Curse Breakers, there were few opportunities to interact with his peers to see how they were coming along.

None, really.

And so it was a rare treat to see another student wearing the distinct robe of an intern passing by in the hall. 

Pretty thing that she was, Sebastian paid little mind to her beyond a cordial greeting she disregarded entirely while she rushed a stack of parchment baring a seal denoting she was working with the Department of Mysteries, head down as she read through the top page busily.

A future Unspeakable, he figured, and was so distracted by his thoughts of the girl that he roughly ran right into her in her haste to get back to whichever demanding worker she was meant to report to.

With a startled yelp, they both tumbled to the floor, parchment fluttering around in a mess while she whined and scrambled to grab up her now shuffled stack, muttering about being disciplined.

Sebastian, taking pity on the clearly flustered witch, swiftly apologized and helped her gather the pages, trying his best to keep them tidy. It was only when he handed the stack he'd collected to her that he caught a glimpse of her face.

And froze, hands uselessly held out in front of him as his expression went slack with surprise.

There she was.

Vague dreams and painfully distant memories crashed back into the forefront of his mind with all the grace of an erumpent, yet he was left just staring blankly at her. His tongue felt dry and useless in his mouth despite how he willed it to function and greet the damn girl he'd been pining for somewhere in the deepest recesses of his soul for a bloody decade.

She appeared in a similar daze, features frozen in silent shock and her papers forgotten.

Sebastian wondered, heart racing, if she did indeed recognize him as well.

That question was answered when she spoke first - a soft, reverent uttering of his name on her lips.

Then, a louder and far more ear-splitting yell of her own name, which he immediately committed to memory as her superior came barreling down the hall to collect her and shoo her back to work.

She and Sebastian both stammered and stumbled over their words, weak protests about separating, but before he knew it, he was left alone in the hall still staring at the locked door she'd been pushed through.

It was fine, though. He had her name now, and he knew she'd be an Unspeakable in a few weeks' time - or at least still training with them.

He could work with that.

He would find her.

Just as soon as he was able to return to the Ministry, he could know for certain she would be there as well.

He'd never been so anxious to leave behind the sanctuary of Hogwarts and rush forward with his life, and the week-long gap between graduation and his first day stretched on for mind-numbing eternity.

-

The entire week leading up to his first Monday as a full-fledged Ministry employee, Sebastian repeated her name in his mind and under his breath like a mantra. He would not allow himself to forget her again, to the point he almost wanted to carve her name into his arm as a permanent reminder.

He hadn't been able to sleep a wink the night prior, finding it impossible to drift off when he could simply remain awake and obsess over every scrap of detail he could recall of her.

The delicate curve of her body under the robe, how her hair framed her face, those expressive eyes, his name in that enchanting lilt…

Sebastian yawned for the tenth time that hour as he rose from his seat at the cafe, savoring the final dregs of his coffee before heading to the counter to order one more for the commute to the Ministry.

He'd need it if he were to survive the next eight waking hours.

Any thrill of finding his wayward witch was tempered slightly by fatigue, and he needed to remedy that if he were to juggle both his first day of work and a long-overdue reunion with the person he now recognized as his first love.

What else could it be, after, all, if not an enduring and poignant love to have made such an impression on them both from such limited interactions?

He could practically see her in his mind's eye, rushed and panicked.

In fact, he did see her - far too late.

A repeat of the day before, she crashed into him in a flurry as Sebastian exited the cafe, spilling his drink over them both in a shower of scalding coffee.

He yelped out, startled, but as he took in the young woman before him, drenched down the front of her dress in brown liquid, he smiled broadly.

She was laughing, not at all bothered by the mess or how both of them were sprawled out on the ground for the second time.

Merlin, her laugh was gorgeous, and everything else simply faded into the background at the sound of it.

Sebastian shook his head slightly to clear it, regaining his senses enough to stand up and help her to her feet, the touch of her soft hand in his magnetic. Everything about her mystified him in the best way.

He wasn't going to apologize because, truth be told, he was quite thrilled to have an excuse to touch her.

Instead, Sebastian cleared his throat and let her name roll off his tongue like it belonged there.

“It's good to see you again.” He said, keeping hold of her hand - she didn't move to retract it, either.

“And you, though I must admit I feel like it's been ages and yet somehow not that long at all.” She replied, a curious smile gracing her lips as she studied his features.

Her eyes raked over him shamelessly, mirroring the way Sebastian presently drank in her form like a man parched.

“Well, we have certainly made a habit of bumping into each other. Is it right that you'll be working for the Ministry as well? An Unspeakable?” 

She nodded, using her free hand to shyly tuck her hair back behind her ear. “Yes, following in my aunt's footsteps, actually. She's the wretched old harpy who screeched at me yesterday and dragged me back into the department. Otherwise, I would have loitered a bit longer with you in the hall.”

Sebastian choked on a laugh. He was so overwhelmed to see her - touch her - and her demure appearance coupled with the dry vitriol she spewed was such a charming contradiction. He wasn't sure whether or not he wanted to embrace her, but something about getting the chance to speak with her again brought an unexpected sting to his eyes.

This incredible person had somehow managed to thread her way through his life, leaving her mark in every chapter. She'd known his parents - she'd known him back in his innocence.

And there she stood - a living, breathing testament to one of very few treasured memories he possessed.

He gripped her hand just a bit tighter.

“Not keen on filling your parents’ shoes as a research editor?” He followed up with another question, starved for any shred of information he could gather about her.

She shook her head but stepped a bit closer to him, a light dusting of pink across her cheeks. “You remember not only me, but my parents? Color me very surprised - and impressed. Your sister was spot on about your sharp wit.”

At mention of Anne, Sebastian felt like he'd been struck across the face, and a whole slew of new questions cropped up.

“I… think I need to walk with you to the Ministry. May I?” He asked, too stunned to realize he was already dragging her by the hand to come along with him.

Her voice rang out clear as a bell, mischievous.

“Only if we take the long way.”

-

They took the long way each and every day from that day on, meeting at their cafe in the mornings before work, ducking out of their respective departments sporadically throughout the day to catch one another, stealing the other away for a quiet lunch somewhere far from their colleagues, and capping off the days with a leisurely stroll back through town.

Their daily chats were how Sebastian unraveled and pieced back together their years apart.

She'd moved with her family to France after the accident - a fresh start where they could be nearer to their work and far removed from the trauma of losing their friends so suddenly.

It hadn't been for lack of effort or care that they left the Sallow children in Feldcroft. Solomon had been adamant that they should remain with their blood and well away from the dangers of their parents’ frivolous research. He wanted them to grow up ignorant of their legacy.

Despite the many pleading letters her parents had written, they each returned unopened.

They recounted their various spottings of each other over the years - how Sebastian had seen her in Diagon Alley on a shopping spree with her mother, then again at the Triwizard Tournament after her ill-fated encounter with a date who'd run off with another girl.

For the best, Sebastian reasoned, considering this witch belonged to him since the day he'd first laid eyes on her.

She told him, too, of how she'd often thought of and even dreamt of him over the years. The time she could have sworn she'd seen his mop of brown hair in the sea of spectators at a Quidditch match once at age twelve - it had, in fact, been him. 

Then when she called out to him and nearly pinned him down over the summer when they were sixteen. He'd been in a heated argument with a friend - Ominis, he realized - in the middle of Hogsmeade while she'd been in town visiting her aunt, but he Disapparated before she could catch his attention.

Finally, just a couple years prior when Sebastian dragged himself into the deepest depth of despair, Anne somehow showed up on their doorstep in France after tracking her family down when she recognized their familiar names in the footnotes of a medical journal at the hospital she'd been residing in for supportive care.

It was her parents who brought Anne to visit a Healer they were working with on research for curses and cures, and it was that Healer who managed to repair the near-fatal damage inflicted on her over the years and cure her.

Several missed opportunities dotted their inexplicably intertwined history, together but apart, until fate somehow weaved a path for them to meet at the Ministry of all places.

Not long after, their daily walks turned into weekends spent lounging together in the park and chatting over books and tea.

A stolen kiss here, a night spent together there…

Until, of course, it became far too difficult - painful, even to part ways for even a night. The wait to see each other in the morning proved agonizing, and like she'd read his mind, she simply brought overnight luggage with her to work and followed him home one Friday evening.

Then, she didn't leave.

Sebastian joked that she was like a stray cat he couldn't shake after feeding it once, but he'd been the one to insist on doing the lion’s share of work when it came to moving her in proper.

It caused quite the stir in their respective departments when Sebastian proposed marriage not even a full month into their official courtship, but it took far too damn long to get to that point in Sebastian’s opinion.

Hers as well, considering she dragged him to the Ministry officiant that following Sunday to claim his surname for her own without much more than a letter to her parents informing them of the impromptu wedding.

Now that had kicked up a fuss, and Sebastian was forced to sheepishly greet his blind-sided in-laws for the first time in many years when they, tailed by Anne, arrived in a tizzy to berate the newlyweds.

That is, until her parents realized with sappy fondness just who their daughter's beau was, and a tearful reunion, exacerbated all the more by Anne's subsequent forgiveness, made for the most cherished day of their new life together.

While it was an unorthodox route to get back to each other, they had managed in the end. Sebastian had never been particularly skilled with Divination, but even he believed in fate enough to thank every nonexistent higher power he could name for bringing her to him.

He felt whole again - his twin returned to him, parents who wept joyfully when they realized who their daughter had so rashly given herself to, and a love so profound it spanned several years before even bearing fruit.

-

Fruit it bore, too, and bountifully so. After three years of pure, unfiltered bliss with his wife at his side for every day of it, Sebastian admired her peacefully sleeping form next to him in their shared bed.

Hair still tangled across the pillow and bare shoulders littered with remnants of yet another amorous evening, she looked ethereal in the morning light glittering in.

She'd wake soon enough, a beautiful smile on her lips just for him - his favorite part of the morning.

For the time being, though, he'd watch her enjoy her last few moments of sleep. 

The proud protrusion of her stomach under their soft, cotton sheet brought an even fuller happiness to Sebastian, ready to greet their son for the first time in just a few short weeks. He'd been sure to read to her every day, aloud as they'd once done as children, to soothe her to rest and get their baby accustomed to his father's voice. 

It worked well for their first two, who still settled down the moment Sebastian pulled out a book each evening when they put their little ones down to sleep.

Sebastian brushed her hair carefully behind her ear to worship the face of the woman who meant everything to him. She stirred slightly, and he couldn't help but lean over and kiss her cheek.

After she whined, reluctant to wake fully, he kissed her lips as well and was rewarded with that smile he wanted to see more than anything else in the world. His hand traveled down to rest on her bump, reverent as he caressed the unfathomable gift she bestowed upon them with her own body before letting his fingers dip a bit lower.

An airy little squeak of his name, and she was wide awake.

“We've still got a bit of time before I need to be at the office, and the little ones are up and tugging at your skirt. Figured I'd get in your skirt first.” Sebastian greeted her softly, fingers finding their mark with practiced ease.

“I'm not wearing a skirt.” She chided playfully, already breathing heavier and biting her lip as she adjusted herself to let him do as he pleased. “But I do see the appeal - carry on.”

And so, the morning continued as just about every single one of their mornings did - Sebastian eventually leaving his flushed bride recovering in their bed while he got the little ones settled with their breakfast, sporting a shit-eating grin before she staggered out of the bedroom to shoo him to work.

It was his favorite game to flirt with her, after all.

His biggest regret in life, beyond taking so damn long to find her again, was that he needed to part from his family at all, even for the work he so enjoyed. Still, now that his one and only complaint was loving his wife and children too fiercely, Sebastian considered himself the luckiest man alive.

Not everyone found their soulmate, and even Sebastian had considered the phrase corny at one point, but she really was put on the earth just for him, as he was for her.

The thought made him turn back not even ten paces from their home to race back inside and pull her into another kiss.

[pluvpluvpluv]

What did they do about sun protection in the 1890s? Ladies had parasols but the men really just had to put up with it I guess. Skin cancer galore. A tan was usually the mark of a working man and frowned upon by the gentry, in Muggle society at least.

Garreth's fair complexion can't have been good for long days working on his family's land in the height of Summer. He'd probably end up burning, especially around his nose and shoulders, and would need slathering in Murtlap essence afterwards (I volunteer for this task).

The sun would bring out his freckles even more though, so swings and roundabouts.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Frankly, spot four is a wild card always. So I filled it with one of my longest fictional crushes. Outside of him. I might have a type ? Even including him maybe I have a type.

I am tagging to complete the rules of said tag game. No pressure I just love u: @applinsandoranges @ellivenollivander (Idc that Em tagged you too xoxo) @terravoidd @witchyafterdark

lil tag game | show me your top 4 current fictional crushes

curious to see who everyone picks as their top💕🥹

(also, it was super fun to put them in a collage like this and make my feralism skyrocket so you should too🤧)

moderate pressure tags: @musingsofahufflepuff @pizzaapeteer @slytherinslut0 @jayybugg @suugarbabe

[pluvpluvpluv]

Insert Anne Boleyn joke from Six here

I guess they really liked my head

A Man Of Ill Repute

Richard Jackdaw x f!reader

Summary: Richard has a reputation as quite the flirt; a scoundrel, even. But you can't deny your attraction to him, or the ways in which he surprises you.

Tags: explicit | alive!Richard | sex | cunnilingus | semi-public sex | music as foreplay | 1790s Hogwarts

4k words

A/n: What in the Bridgerton is this? Not intentional, but I love the thought of Richard being a complete flirt but actually never earning his scandalous reputation.

Period accurate underwear (?), definitely not period accurate sex.

Breakfast time was a somewhat boisterous affair; the gaggle of girls who crowded you now made for rather spirited company. The hour before lessons began was often filled by exchanging gossip, and today was no exception, though the appearance of the subject of much gossip himself had just entered the hall, only adding to the whispers. 

Richard Jackdaw—charmer, layabout, devishly handsome despite his arrogance—was not just passing, but approaching your table. He walked with his hands behind his back, chest proud, strutting like a peacock, like he owned the place. No small wonder, when girls of all houses would swoon over his perfectly coiffed brunet locks and those lips to die for. Those lips had been on a fair few of your fellow students, no doubt, if the stories were to be believed.

Despite all this, you watched him in all his swaggering grace, wishing that you could drag your eyes away. Underneath that bluster you thought there might be something deeper worth exploring—or at least that’s what you had been thinking before he opened his mouth.

“Good morning, ladies. You look utterly divine this morning.” He let his dark eyes drift across the swathe of girls, eventually landing on you. As much as you wished you were immune to his charms, your gut twisted and warmth spread through your body to the very tips of your ears.

A few of your classmates giggled and batted their eyelashes whilst the other half rolled their eyes with distaste and returned to their breakfast. Richard blew an air kiss in your general direction and was off, probably to terrorise some other unsuspecting group of girls. Your cheeks were burning, and you suspected it had nothing to do with your cup of tea.

“What a rake, that Jackdaw!” your friend erupted as soon as he was out of ear shot.

“He is ever so handsome, though.”

“And ever so dim witted,” another added.

“He has a good mind for solving puzzles,” you interjected, idly spooning porridge into your bowl. The words had quite appeared from nowhere and earned you a few curious glances. Since when did you defend Richard Jackdaw?

“Yes, well, you still beat him at chess, did you not?” A fair eyebrow raised in your direction.

That you did, though it was a tough match and the Gryffindor provided ample distraction with his flirtatious gazes. Richard tended to float through life with not a care in the world, save for the riddles that perplexed most others. If it weren’t for his utter disinterest in typical scholarly pursuits, one might think him more suited to Ravenclaw house. He had an inquisitive mind when presented with the right interest.

“I don’t think he was very happy about it,” you said with a satisfied smile whilst stirring honey into your bowl, the amber liquid reminiscent of a certain rake’s eyes when they caught the light just so…

You shook that thought away. 

Your presumption turned out to be accurate, however, when only a day later Richard approached you after your shared Charms lesson. Slightly ruffled from practicing weather charms (the gale he’d conjured had almost swept your professor clean off his feet), he caught up to you as you left the classroom bearing his signature charming smile.

“Jackdaw. What do you want?” you asked suspiciously.

“I'm offended you think I must want something in order to talk to you, darling.”

You halted just outside the doorway and rounded on him. “Am I wrong?”

“Well as it is…I wondered if you fancied a rematch? I've been turning our chess game over in my head, and I think I know how you bested me.”

“I bested you because I'm the better player, Jackdaw.”

His eyes glittered, amber and gold, captivated. His intense stare was unnerving in the best way. Was he trying to figure you out? Or was this simply another attempt at seduction?

“I'm afraid I have time booked in the music room to practice on the pianoforte,” you said, clutching your books tighter against your chest. 

“Oh, you play? I knew there must be a reason why I find myself so drawn to you,” he purred. 

“Yes, so I'm afraid our rematch will have to wait—”

“May I join you?”

The question caught you by surprise. There was no particular reason to say no; in fact the thought of spending more time with him wasn't entirely unpleasant.

“You want to listen to me play?” you asked, suddenly nervous.

“I thought I might accompany you. I play the violin. There are surely some sonatas that are suitable?”

Another surprising revelation.

“I…suppose so, yes.” 

Barely ten minutes later you were settled in front of the pianoforte in the middle of the music room, with Richard quietly tuning his violin. The music you’d retrieved felt suddenly intimidating as you shuffled through the sheets. It was imperative you found the right piece, for this was another competition of sorts.

Something challenging, then.

“Any joy?” he asked, sauntering to your side to look over your shoulder, his hips swaying in your periphery. You licked your lips. From his vantage point he could no doubt see down your dress. 

Rake.

“Sonata number eighteen in G major,” you replied primly. “You know it?”

“Who doesn’t know Mozart, my dear?”

You knew this piece well enough for your fingers to fly across the keys with little thought, muscle memory taking over. The notes on the manuscript before you held little interest compared to the man beside you. He played effortlessly, superbly. His fluid strokes were hypnotic, deft fingers stretching wide, flying across strings to create the most enchanting accompaniment to your own melody. His eyes were shut, lost to the music, giving you ample opportunity to watch him unashamedly.

There was something undeniably erotic about his performance; so enraptured he was with the sonata that every lilt came with a peak of his eyebrows, his lips parted as he moved and swayed along with the rhythm. He threw his all into his performance, and you could practically hear his heart thumping along with your own. 

Fingers teased the strings, stroking with precision. The crescendo of the piece coincided with a lurch in your stomach, and his eyes flew open as his final vibrato rang out. A final chord, a slice of his bow and then the music ended; deathly silence filled the room. Your chest heaved as he held your gaze, breathless. You knew then that he felt the same agonising tension, the same magnetic pull.

He was the first to smile and break the silence. “We do make such beautiful music together, don't we?”

You blinked, but did not—could not—deny it. You wanted to believe that whatever this was had been special for him, as it had been for you, but you knew better, did you not? The thought made you quite ill.

“Is that what you say to all the girls, Jackdaw? Before you slip your tongue into their mouths?” you gasped, struggling to compose yourself.

“Wh-what?” He staggered back, looking wounded as his violin dropped to his side.

“Come now, everyone knows you've kissed half the girls in school!”

You stood up suddenly, stool scraping across the floor. Gathering your sheet music, you intended to leave then, to chastise yourself in private for having fallen for Richard's charms so wholly. How foolish to think that you had been special. Richard opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again, like a damned fish. Why was he so surprised that you'd figured out his game?

“Good Gods, no! Who said that?”

Richard made his way to your side, forcing you to look at him. If he had been anyone else you might have recognised hurt in his eyes, or confusion, even. 

“Everyone, Richard!” you said shakily, still vibrating with whatever had passed between you only moments ago. He'd knocked you off-kilter, filled you with a warmth you recognised but ought to be ashamed of.

He reached out, faltering only inches from your hand. His voice dipped to a mere whisper. “All because I enjoy complimenting the fairer sex? That hardly seems fair.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “So you didn't accompany me here just to try to get your hands up my skirts?”

“Well, I certainly wouldn't say no to that prospect,” he laughed, but his smile faltered into sincerity. “I've had my eye on you, surely you've noticed? Just you.”

Your breath caught, hands stilling on the stack of music that had changed everything. Had you been mistaken? You thought back to every recent interaction with Richard. He had sought you out to play chess, held your eye when he offered his compliments, followed you here and played beautiful music with you. 

“Have you?” you managed to ask.

“I can't quite forget how you so effortlessly bested me at chess.”

“Me neither.”

“And that…playing with you…”

You subconsciously parted your lips as he moved closer, drawn towards your quivering body that yearned for his touch. You must have sighed his name as he offered up a gentle ‘yes?’ before capturing your mouth in his. 

Lips as soft as pillows pressed gently to yours, tentatively exploring how you fit together. Perfectly, as it was. He drew in your lower lip between his teeth as his hands finally found your waist, warmth unfurling in your abdomen at the slightest brush. You were as tightly wound as the strings that now strained under the hammer on the pianoforte, as you found yourself pushed backwards onto the keys. The almighty racket that ensued thankfully drowned out most of your whimpers, but not all.

To be caught now would cause enough scandal to last a lifetime. You would be shamed, ridiculed, cast out from polite society.

Then why couldn't you stop? 

All reason had fled you. Only a primal desire to be ravaged by this man remained.

Richard seemed to be struggling similarly, his hands flexing against your ribcage in a poor attempt at control. His tongue glided across your lips seeking entry, and your gasp invited him in. Languorous swipes had you falling apart in his arms, your hands struggling for purchase against the instrument behind you as you felt your legs weaken. A clatter of chords and mismatched harmonies created a deafening cacophony, the only rhythm to be heard belonging to your straining heart. 

That pulse settled firmly between your thighs, urging you to let Richard have his way with you—for that was where this was headed, you had no doubt. You felt his same desire pressed against your hip, stiff and unyielding. He held you against him in that same restrained way, fingertips bruising your hips through layers of cotton.

When you broke away for breath, Richard startled and almost fell against you, an arm bracing on the pianoforte, caging you in. His eyes were wild, his hair a mass of chocolate curls that fell over his eyes. Had you caused that? You'd been so preoccupied with his lips that you'd barely noticed your fingers curled in his mane. Your fingers wound tighter around the silken strands, trying to find the words to assuage your guilt.

“Promise me I'm not just another notch on your bedpost, Jackdaw.”

He grinned then, all dimples and flushed cheeks. “Darling you are the only notch, if you'll have me.”

“Oh. Yes.”

His lips crashed back into yours, Richard’s low groan speaking of his relief. The pianoforte behind you gave another almighty belch of clashing notes. Your hands grappled behind you to close the lid and it slammed shut. His lips curled in a smile as he maneuvered you backwards, hands shamelessly sliding underneath your behind to hoist you onto the wood. 

Lips found your jaw, your neck.

His tongue laved the skin below your ear, hot and wet and insistent. 

Every nerve ending was ablaze, the throbbing between your thighs growing almost painful. Richard had the enthusiasm you’d expected but the fumbling of your skirts and a clash of teeth told you that perhaps he did indeed have no more experience than yourself. It didn’t matter—the passion was enough.

Those nevertheless skillful hands soon wrapped around your calves, sliding higher and higher, far too slowly. You wobbled on your precarious perch, cracking open your eyelids to peer down at him. Richard had his lips still firmly glued to your neck, licking and sucking until you felt the sting of a blooming bruise. Your dress glided higher, over your knees now; an agonising ascent. Finally his palms skimmed your inner thigh and hesitated at the border of cotton and skin.

You were loathe to beg, but every passing second was torture without the contact you so craved.

“Please, Richard…”

He moaned against your neck as he slid his fingers to your centre, the slit in your undergarments providing easy access. That first press against your clit provided an explosion of pleasure, and the gliding strokes that followed had your back arching clean off the instrument behind you. 

So distracted were you that you barely registered when Richard’s weight had disappeared from your body, the chill air of the music room suddenly shocking you back into focus. His head had dipped below your skirts, knelt before you as if in worship. 

You blushed, furiously, gnawing at your lips. You hadn't expected this much attention. He surprised you at every turn, from his hidden talents (present situation included) to his willingness to attend to your needs first. He kissed your thighs, murmuring and moaning against your skin whilst his thumb—slick from your own arousal—rubbed exquisite circles between your folds. Any sort of worry about where you found yourself, who might walk in and how Richard saw you from his present vantage point simply melted away in a haze of pleasure.

He played you as expertly as his violin, teasing moans from your lips just as he coaxed forth beautiful melodies. Your fingers curled into his hair, gentle tugs that grew in urgency the closer you approached your peak—and it came on with such haste that you feared you might never be satisfied by your own hand again. 

“May I taste you?”

The question came from nowhere, his thumb still gliding, teeth returned to the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Wh-what?”

“My tongue, can I use it—” he pressed more firmly against your clit, eliciting from you a whimper “—here?”

Without waiting for an answer—which you weren't sure you could manage to articulate anyway—Richard gripped your thigh and pressed it wider, higher, resting your leg on his shoulder. Your skin was burning now, being so exposed, laid so bare. You tried to tug your skirt down but he brushed your hand away, instead gripping it in his and locking your fingers together. 

“Oh…”

Richard smiled up at you, before delving back between your legs. The first swipe of his tongue against your sensitive bundle had you squirming in surprise whilst your unrestrained moans filled the room. Richard squeezed your hand tighter as his tongue dipped inside you, gently at first, then more insistent. Deeper he delved, teasing you open until you began to relax around his muscle.

He was preparing you for what was to come.

You shuddered at the thought, a quiver of unbridled lust.

By the way he groaned, he seemed to enjoy using his tongue to pleasure you. You chanced a peek over your bodice to watch him, his hair in disarray and cheeks as flushed as your breasts. Then his eyes flew open as if sensing you watching, locking his soft chestnut gaze on you whilst he worked. You couldn't look away; his dishevelment was utterly captivating.

“You're…ever so good at that,” you gasped, your breath quivering.

Richard smiled in return and wriggled his eyebrows. He was flirting with you still whilst doing that! The most frustrating thing seemed to be that it was working. Your stomach gave an almighty lurch, butterflies caught in a whirlwind, all trapped behind your ribcage. 

His tongue returned to your clit for the finale, sensing your climax by the shake of your legs and the increasing pitch of your moans. The bell in the tower above chimed as you came undone, masking your cries and muddling what should have been pure ecstasy. Panic mingled with pleasure.

Only once did it ring, then the gargantuan bell fell silent but for the waning hum as the pianoforte vibrated beneath you.

“No…oh Gods!” Still caught in the wave of your orgasm, you struggled to speak.

“What's wrong?” Richard asked.

“Ch-choir!”

His eyes flew wide as he understood your meaning, and suddenly he was over you instead of under you, your leg no longer supported. He caught you in his arms before you could fall, strong hands gripping your waist as your skirts fell back to the floor. 

You felt the steady stream of saliva and your own juices run down your leg as you righted yourself, and what little shame you had left flared, muted by the terror of being caught. As you both ran up creaking wooden stairs, away from the approaching voices outside the music room door, you grinned. 

What scandal—what a thrill.

Richard had hold of your hand, pulling you through the door to the bell tower stairs just in time as the Hogwarts choir bustled into the music room for their weekly practice. You practically fell into his arms in relief, huddled in the dank, dark store room, gasping for breath. You felt his heart pounding beneath your palm, the heat from his skin, and—to your disbelief—he was still achingly erect. These close quarters did nothing to quell your excitement, still buzzing with lustful want despite, or because of, the fear of your capture.

“What should we do now?” he asked, barely a whisper.

This store room was not ideal for a romantic rendezvous, nor even an illicit one. Dim light trickled down the stairwell to illuminate a square on the floor—a greyish patch of dust and cobwebs—and the little ambient glow was barely enough to see Richard's face by. But, it was enough. His plump lips, the shine of his chin, sparkling eyes and the curls that dusted his brow—you saw it all in soft contrast, and answered him with a kiss.

He returned it with fervour even whilst the students below crashed about and chatted loudly. Neither of you seemed to care; the reward far outweighed the risk.

Richard pressed himself against you, his cock impossibly hard against your hip, whilst his hands slid to your behind and held you firmly in place. His breath was hot and heavy, coming in pants between slippery swipes of tongue. All technique had flown out the window, and you threw your arms around him to press yourself flush against his chest. You wanted every inch of your body in contact with his, to feel the warmth beneath his clothes against your touch-deprived skin.

Stripping yourself of clothes might be a step too far, however. You would settle for what you could—and that involved him once again bundling the heavy fabric of your skirts around your waist whilst guiding you backwards until your thighs hit something solid. A box or chest, a crate maybe. Whatever it is would serve your needs—another perch for you to be defiled on.

You wrapped a hand around his cravat, pulling him between your legs as you shuffled backwards. You heard the pop of buttons as his breeches came undone, saw the pink of his head strain against the fabric until his erection fell into his waiting hand. Reaching out to stroke him, you felt the weight, the girth as your fingers curled around his shaft. Richard was blessed, that much was clear. Saliva pooled in your mouth at the thought of taking him, your core fluttering with need.

The din from below had dulled to a quiet murmur as the choir took their places and readied themselves for their first song. 

Richard nibbled at your lower lip as he lined himself up with your entrance. 

His cock twitched when you bit back. 

The music began, and you knew nothing but bliss as Richard filled you completely. You wrapped your legs around his waist and leaned back, gaping in awe at where you joined. Even in the semi-darkness you saw what a mess you were, the fabric of your bloomers sticky and tattered. 

The voices grew louder, beautiful and mesmerising to behold.

Richard withdrew with a low groan, and he pressed his palm down firmly on your abdomen before thrusting slowly back into you, even deeper than before. You tried to stifle your moans with your own fist, but what did it matter? You could be as loud as you wanted to be whilst the choir’s harmonies filled the bell tower.

He leaned into your ear. “Good girl. How do you feel?”

“Good…amazing…”

A twinge of pain made you wince as he bottomed out, and he held still, searching your eyes. 

“Don't stop, Richard.”

“Godric’s heart,” he whispered barely audibly before pulling out and slamming back inside you.

You saw stars, perhaps even heaven itself as he fucked you into oblivion. Fingers bruised your hips, a messy clash of teeth and tongues, desperate moans into each other's mouths. It was everything you'd dreamed of yet nothing like the fantasies of a perfect night under the stars or a gentle romp in your bedchamber. This was raw and feverish and utterly glorious. 

“I never want to stop,” he said. Or at least you thought that's what he'd said—it was hard to tell through the swell of voices from below. The choir approached their impressive finale, perfectly masking your sobs as Richard made you come again. You fell limp into his arms and gripped his back tightly, nose nestled into the crook of his neck as he pounded into you through the waves of your orgasm.

He smelled of ink, wood and musk. Heady, beautiful.

Your mouth spilled forth utter filth; expletives you'd dare not use around anyone. To your shame, you begged him to fill you, a testament to just how addled you were. 

“I will. I'm going to fill you until you can't take another drop.”

Oh, Gods, this scoundrel of a man.

Richard didn't falter, hips snapping faster and harder. He moaned so loud you thought you'd be discovered after all, looking deep into your eyes as he came. His cock pulsed, a final hard thrust so deep you almost screamed, and his seed spilled inside you. His release came thick and fast, and you kissed him through it all, muttering his name as he did your own.  

The warbling from below died, the song finished; and so too were you.

Clarity is a wonderful thing, when one is able to come by it. It had all but fled the moment his lips met yours, and was flooding back now.

Atop a dusty box in a store room, Richard Jackdaw had deflowered you. 

Richard Jackdaw—notorious philanderer.

“I hope we can do that again—” he kissed you, so softly his lips were a mere whisper “—and again.”

You searched his eyes for any hint of a lie, but found none.

“The duet or the…other thing?”

“Both, preferably.” Richard peppered your cheeks with kisses, smiling in a dazed sort of way. He looked quite endearing like this. Vulnerable, even.

“That depends entirely on you, Jack—Richard,” you said, rather sternly, though the effect was rather ruined by his steadily softening cock still being buried inside you.

“On me? Then you are willing?”

“I want you to woo me, to court me, and to stop flirting with every girl in the school.”

“Tch, such demands!” he said, grinning. You swatted his arm, but he chuckled and kissed you again, harder this time. “Of course. How could I possibly want anyone else?”

Your breath hitched then, rendering you speechless.

Did you believe him? This man of such ill repute? 

He kissed your hand as if you had all the time in the world to ponder the question. That smile, those lips—they were intoxicating. This could be a trap, and you an unwitting victim of his charms, but then again you could be wholly wrong about him.

Only time would tell if this rake was worthy of your heart.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Oh you mean like this?

Edit: The darling @skittish1807 generated this. And I saved it after a night of thirsting after men in crop tops lmfao

I think Ron would really rock this look actually

[pluvpluvpluv]

Saturn of ULTRA - Prologue

Plot summary: When a futuristic Hogwarts is constructed after a massive catastrophe, a new threat to wizard-kind emerges in the wake of such advancement. An unlikely pairing must work together to prevent history from repeating itself.

Tags: Hogwarts AU (canon divergence) | friends to lovers | aged-up characters (7th year) | NSFW content (magical violence, smut, language)

Waking with senses so ill-equipped ought to be outlawed. Incandescent lamplight induced squints and her eyes squeezed shut, annoyingly so after having been closed for so long. Her sense of sight shook the dust from misuse, eyelids dry and stinging as she strained to make sense of colours, disconnected from dreams, and, albeit reluctantly, reattached firmly to reality and the demands of the present.

She was horizontal, thank Merlin; standing was a language she lost to lack of use, especially if she didn’t have legs. Did she? Was she still human?

Her toes could curl, and the blankets shifted over her limbs, temporarily relieving her delusions. Remarkably, her joints did not crack from fusion, though atrophy had done a number on her.

Seconds passed as she gathered her bearings again, or at least enough to look around a second time, inhaling sharply when she met a pair of brown eyes wide as saucers.

“You’re awake!” cried a familiar voice, familiar despite the haze of memory that nearly failed her thrice. Female and soft, she combed through her mental faculties to place a voice to a face, and, once fully visible, a face to a name.

It all connected at once. “Poppy?” She croaked, the sound a hollow wrack, coughs immediately following suit.

"Yes, yes it's me!" Poppy's joy manifested in a giddy seat-bounce in the armchair at the bedside, radiating relief. "Can you sit upright? Shall I ring for a nurse?" But before her bedridden friend could manage a partial response, she was calling for one anyway, unwilling to leave risk to chance on this momentous occasion.

The waking girl found her voice again with an air of confusion. “A nurse?”

Small, spry hands grasped hers then, and with a feeble sense of self, she was soon sitting upright with pillows to prop, blinking snapshots of her surroundings as if to process them slower than experiencing the now at full speed. Sense began to manifest then, as she recognized lying in a hospital bed, all manner of potion stores lining the nearby shelf, the black chalkboard enchanted to mark up a real-time display of her vital signs, arcing and dipping with her rapid heart rate.

Abruptly, the nurse on staff was erased with a sponge, one Miss Ophelia Derby replaced with the healer taking over, Miss Nova Fenwick. 

A proper lot to digest awaited as she looked to Poppy for a slice of normalcy. With her, fresh memories of feeding mooncalves and scritching baby snidgets under their beaks soothed her brain ache, a small respite; call it intuition, but an inkling writhed in her unfed gut that the situation outside her bubble of awareness was grim.

As if to cram the notion deeper, Poppy’s subtle glance shift from eyes to throat fisted her self-consciousness, and so she felt about her face, noting all the important bits and bobs were still there, though something felt different…

Fingertips brushed the slip of fresh, sensitive skin, where it connected to the jagged, familiar skin of her neck. She followed it, from her earlobe to the hollow of her clavicle, scrunching her neck in an attempt to see it despite being physically unable to contort in such a manner.

The attending healer politely rapped her knuckles on the open door, asking if all was well before her eyes flared wide with the shock of finding her previously comatose patient sitting up and fully conscious. She spun on her heels, plaited hair whipping with the abrupt motion as she hurried off to hail a doctor. 

Alone with Poppy once again, the burden of her two most prominent, must-be-spoken words fell on her shoulders. “What happened?”

The weight of the question buckled then, as Poppy’s chest swelled with the kind of inhale only meant to precede difficult conversations. She let it out unbearably slow and prepared the words that would provide clarity. From her solemn expression, she wasn’t exactly eager to know.

And so, Poppy told her dear friend about the night that everything fell apart.

A Ravenclaw through and through, her pursuit of knowledge knew nary a bound.

But this was information she ought not to have asked for.

Though her wand rested in her lap again, the hawthorn conduit pristine save for a small scorch mark on the hilt, she felt as if the ancient magic in her had somehow perished. The news that Poppy shared had been so devastating, so life-shattering that she wasn’t keen on the next steps, the what-nows unspoken for the time being, almost in mourning. She was left with this lead ball of news in her gut, liable to pull her down with it as it sunk.

Hogwarts was destroyed.

Once Ranrok accessed the final repository beneath the school, a chain of events followed in deliberate, gutwrenching succession. 

First, her ancient magic amplified the effects of the repository. In Poppy’s words, it was like a magnifying glass held beneath a blinding ray of sunshine at high noon.

Second, when Ranrok was defeated, the magic was rendered unstable, and despite the ancient magic wielder containing it within a vessel as a source of rest, it remained hostile, churning continuously in the moments following, the volatile power fermenting in its own subatomic mass.

Then third, terribly so, the unbridled magic began to spread outward and up, pulverizing the very foundational bricks of the castle like shale rock beneath boots. Luckily, the professors were able to evacuate the school grounds exceptionally fast, with Aurors arriving on the scene to assist, but there was nothing that could be done to preserve or save Hogwarts. The clock face was first to fall, followed by the west tower, the Ravenclaw and Astronomy towers crumbling simultaneously, and then one by one, history, stories, and an era in itself were laid to rest in ruin.

That was in February. Seven months ago.

And the descendant of ancient magic had slept ever since. “Well, the muggle term is 'medically-induced coma,’ but that sounds awfully bleak,” Poppy sighed. 

She cried through her physical exam, tears ceasing only while being coached through learning to walk again, but as soon as her personal effects had been returned to her on the day she was discharged, they sprang forth with renewed agony, facing the outside world without knowing what came next, as if the pages of a book she was halfway through reading were promptly torn out, the ending lost for good.

And to add more fuel to the flames of guilt consuming her insides, she learned her advisor and mentor over the past six months had perished along with the castle as well. 

Professor Fig deserved far, far better, she thought, watching the valleys and hills of the highlands pass by in a blur of evergreen beneath the setting sun, as the Hogwarts Express rolled smoothly along the tracks en route to… well, whatever it was now.

Of course, they’d rebuilt the castle, she thought when Poppy went on to explain the aftermath. Students and staff banded together to erect a replica of the fortress they adored, though the unfettered magic, left floating about, anchored to the school grounds from the repository had… altered it, as time passed. When prompted for further explanation, Poppy refused to elaborate and remained blatantly cryptic, advising her to “keep an open mind.”

She ruminated endlessly in the weeks leading up to the start of term, during her physical rehabilitation appointments scheduled alongside the magic refresher compendium that Professor Sharp had oweled to her over the summer. “Seventh year awaits,” he wrote, each flourish of his rushed penmanship as punctuated as his tenor drawl, “see to it that you maintain your upward trajectory.”

Despite everything, the wielder of ancient magic felt wholly useless to the cause. Ever the diligent friend, her Hufflepuff companion provided reassurance, reminding her that she was bedridden and healing for the heftier half of a year. “Everyone is eager to see you again,” she added affectionately. “Especially a certain redhead.”

Garreth. 

Bloody hell.

He was the first of whom she asked Poppy for updates about, steering the topic of conversation back to brighter prospects. Before Hogwarts was felled, before Ranrok and his arsehat loyalists encroached beneath their sacred place of study, Garreth had gone ahead and topped off the culmination of months spent flirting back and forth, their friendship toeing the line marking uncharted territory, with an admission of his feelings that left her chest tight and her center of gravity knocked clean off its axis.

And despite being deemed one of the brightest witches of her time, she hadn’t a clue how to react before mumbling a pathetic, “I need to think about it,” scrambling off to anxiously breathe into her bed linens. 

Award-winning, frustrating, remarkable display of utter stupidity, that was.

She wouldn’t have the gall to approach him now and ask him to backtrack his feelings, months later, without a responding peep bridging the gap with a swell of awkwardness. 

A Ravenclaw through and through, yes, but she was certainly dimwitted to matters of the heart.

Commotion in the adjacent booths tugged her from the self-flagellation stewing in her feelings. She poked her head out of the lonely compartment, curiously eavesdropping on a swath of fourth years discussing some sort of ward approaching. “Once the train passes through, it’ll light right up! My uncle helped with the redesign, incredible what that magic has done…”

“Quite right, I’m excited to see it happen.”

It only prompted more questions, of which she was about to pose to the younger students, when the train slowed considerably in its locomotions. 

The voice of the stately conductor echoed through the corridor then, announcing to a chorus of animated titters and chatting. “Attention, students! We are now passing through the school ground wards, so you will notice some changes occur. Please remain seated, and ensure your personal effects are tidied, packed, and ready for arrival.”

Everything began to change in rapid succession, and she was wholly unprepared.

The first thing she noticed was how dark it became, all at once, without the ebb from daylight to night.

Then, immediately after, the train compartment transformed from the timeless warmth of woodgrain and upholstery, to sleek metal fabrication and dazzling light fixtures that glowed an otherworldly shade of teal.

The scenery outside her window drastically altered before her eyes, as the Hogwarts Express slowed in its approach of the train station.

And when Hogwarts Castle appeared in the distance, alight with fluorescent saturation, electric in its very existence, she was left in gobsmacked awe.

Thank you to @wedonthaveawhile for letting me 'borrow' her OC Nova from her story, The Serpents Hold 🤍 you are a total peach and I LOVE YOU

[pluvpluvpluv]

It’s the astronomical/brain empty anon hello again Applin. I have been craving. Angst and a grovel. I’ve reread Ignorant and Crucio like a million times. And my brain finally decided to brain. And mid type, it’s decided to jumble so bear with me. But would love snot rag (affectionate) Sebastian once again speaking before he thinks and doing/saying something that pisses MC off and she’s finally hit her limit with him and basically says she’s fed up and just ices him out. And maybe he needs a nudge from someone to get his head out of his ass bc to be fair MC did always come running before but now she’s made herself extremely scarce. And Seb realizing all that MC has put up with and done for him. And just. Good begging. On his knees. Maybe I’ve been watching the S3 Bridgerton promo too much but I just. Need it. Ok thanks lybye

Admittedly, I have yet to jump on the Bridgerton wagon. That said, I love a remorseful Sebastian sticking his foot in his mouth.

I made him slightly less sobbing sappy pathetic and more... dumbass. I hope that's okay!

Thank you so much for sharing your idea and allowing me to write it, Anon! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count ~4700

When Hell Freezes Over

Annoying.

Another rude fucking word, spilling from his lips without a thought like they always did.

For someone as sharp as Sebastian liked to believe he was, he now wondered how he was so irreparably stupid when it came to her.

Eyes widening in genuine hurt and her lips parted with surprise, he braced himself for the inevitable backlash of her usual sharp retort when he stuck his foot in his mouth.

It never came.

Rather than an insult in-kind or a scolding, she delivered a far worse reaction - she cried. Mouth snapping shut and silencing any of her typical replies, the corners turned down and wavered. At first, Sebastian thought she was about to hit him with an especially heinous insult in retaliation, but the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes told a starkly different tale - and made his gut churn.

Merlin, he wished she'd just strike him.

Anything but whatever this fresh new hell was.

Before he could even wrap his head around her uncharacteristically emotional response long enough to grasp that maybe, perhaps, just possibly he should probably consider apologizing, she spun on her heel and darted out of the icy courtyard where they'd had their spat.

Or rather, miserable falling out, as Sebastian was now realizing with sinking dread.

So, he stood in the courtyard, trying to rationalize the irrational. Surely, hers was an overreaction. A feminine mood swing, maybe. He tracked her cycles to tell when he ought to walk on eggshells - unbeknownst to his friend, of course. This was close enough to her monthly for her to be more sensitive. He'd learned the practice from living with an ornery sister for so many years, and it had served him well.

Thus, Sebastian ultimately reasoned that she'd simply get over it, brushing aside his temporary guilt over a minor slip of the tongue, and strolled off to find Ominis, a slightly less prickly companion to whom he could vent.

Or so he thought.

-

“You said what to her?” Ominis asked, regarding his friend in disbelief.

Sebastian sighed and groaned, frustrated that his oldest friend was already veering dangerously close to siding with a hormonal witch. Pacing the length of the Undercroft, he felt himself getting riled again.

When didn't she and Ominis gang up on him, though? He should have known better - should have sought out Brattleby or someone more appeasing. For a boy who was blind, Ominis certainly could still deliver a positively venomous look.

“What? It wasn't even that bad. I only called her annoying - which she was! Asking me something like that when she knows I'm in the thick of studying for NEWTs! She interrupted my reading for something so trivial!” Sebastian defended himself, staunchly in support of his actions after spending the afternoon mulling over it.

He would apologize when hell froze over.

Even if Ominis dispproved, even if she didn't speak to him for days - actually, that might even be preferable considering it would give him silence to study.

She'd already sapped his study hour earlier by badgering him about some silly -

“It's not just a dance, you imbecile. It's the Yule Ball!” Ominis cut through his thoughts, exasperated.

“It's a dance! A bunch of our vapid classmates wasting a night twirling around, lining Gladrags’ pockets for their formal wear, draining away precious time right before our exams!” Surely Ominis could see reason when he reminded him for the umpteenth time of their impending future-altering tests. “And she's just been going on and on about what her dress color will be, and how she prefers dittany to roses, and how she's been practicing dancing with the other giggling fools.”

Finally, Ominis had seen reason, considering he stood there, slack-jawed and speechless.

Surely it was because he now knew how oh so very wrong he was.

“I mean this with every disrespect, but for all your studying, you are, undoubtedly, the most wildly impressive buffoon I have ever deigned to know.” Ominis eventually said dryly.

Sebastian's prior gloating demeanor vanished.

“Pardon?” He asked, dumbstruck.

“Rub just two of your braincells together for a moment, Sebastian, I implore you.” Ominis said, approaching and resting his hands on Sebastian's shoulders with an almost pitying look.

“I think I'm offended, but continue.” He replied hesitantly.

“Why, do you reckon, a witch would tell someone incessantly about her favorite flower, her dress colors, and ask if you're planning to attend the ball with anyone? Why do you think that is?” Ominis led, tone condescending.

Sebastian scoffed, “Well because she's-”

“I swear on my Aunt Noctua's bones. If you say it's because she's a daft girl excited about a frilly dress, I will personally put you six feet under with your uncle.”

“Piss off, I wasn't.” Sebastian pouted.

He would never call her daft.

He was going to say silly.

But that was beside the point.

“Because she's excited and wants to chatter on about it? That doesn't mean I'm obligated to humor her antics. She has plenty of friends who are attending.” Sebastian said curtly, already annoyed again by the topic. 

These were precious study hours thrown away, all for the sake of some ridiculous dance he was not even attending. The Library would be empty that night - the concentration he could devote to classwork before the holidays…

“Who's she going with, Sebastian? Who is escorting her to this cursed ball?” 

That stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks.

Who in the hell was taking her? And why did the mere notion of it irk him.

“She didn't say.” He answered slowly.

Or maybe she had, he had tuned out much of her noise when she got started, honestly. Not that he'd admit as much even under threat of death.

“That's because she's not accepted a date. Have you failed to notice the scores of dates she's been offered and subsequently turned down since the announcement of the event?” 

Once more, Sebastian scoffed, amused. It was good that she turned down her suitors. Who was worthy of keeping her on their arm for an evening? Pathetic of them to try.

“I'm proud of her for keeping her standards.” 

“Her standards are apparently so rock bottom they sink deeper than the middle of the Black Lake.” Ominis quipped back without missing a beat.

Sebastian arched a brow and frowned. “Why do I keep getting the impression these remarks of yours are pointed?” 

“Because they are! I'm amazed you've been able to pick up on that and not the witch practically tugging at your robes all month, pleading with you to ask her to a damned ball!” 

Eyes widening, Ominis's raised voice caught him off guard before the words fully set in. There was simply no way. She was always so blunt with whatever she wanted - surely she'd have asked him herself if that was the case.

But, the snippets of one-sided conversations over the past few weeks she'd had with him about the ball rushed to mind. All her suggestions to go shopping for her dress in Hogsmeade together, requests for him to help her practice her dancing since her partners thus far had only been the other girls, and the incredibly loaded statements about how all the boys seemed to be asking their intended with increasingly romantic gestures like enchanted paper roses that sang poetry.

He'd simply assumed she was being chatty.

“I'm an ass.” Sebastian admitted blandly.

“I wish I could come and watch you prostrate yourself, but I am already promised to my own date this evening. Come find me if you need help reversing any of her jinxes.”

With that, Ominis saw himself out.

He'd be lucky if she spared him enough attention to cast a spell his way. 

-

The sanctuary of her dormitory saw an unwelcome intrusion in the form of a Howler.

Of all fucking things.

After what Sebastian had said to her, she expected he'd sulk and pout a bit at her reaction for a few days and then offer his usual half-hearted apologize in which he wasn't actually apologizing. 

The thought only made her seethe.

Certainly, she'd been sad, of course. When he dared to call her annoying simply for expressing excitement over the ball. Dense as Sebastian was when it came to courtship or picking up on any social cue really, she hadn't factored in that he might insult her over the course of her attempts.

No, in all her carefully executed plans of badgering him to death over the ball, smacking him across the face with hints rather than subtly dropping them, she imagined he might take some time to get it. Hell, the possibility of needing to simply push a bouquet into his hands with a written script of what she wanted him to ask popped into mind more than once.

But, for all the wide range of ways she expected things to go, having him call her annoying when she was already strung so tightly spending every waking moment hoping he would show the slightest interest - that stung. More than it should have. 

Rationally, she knew Sebastian wasn't at fault for the well of heartache she felt. While he shouldn't have called her any sort of name, she knew he hadn't technically turned her down.

Hell, he didn't even know she was asking.

She knew this.

But it still hurt.

And then, as she mulled over it more, she grew angry with him for being such a -

“Useless, thick, bastard! I'll kill him!” She seethed, staring at the shreds of the Howler on her once-tidy dormitory floor.

Stop sulking like a child and come to the courtyard. Now. 

Ordering her around, sending her a Howler, demanding she leave the cocoon of blankets and cup of tea she'd just brewed to come find him again in the freezing fucking courtyard?

Oh, she'd find him, alright. Find him and shove that Howler up his ass where his head was apparently firmly situated. Anyone possessing even the slightest amount of functioning gray matter might have sent poetry, or flowers, or, Merlin-forbid, an apology.

Not Sebastian Sallow, though. It was a wonder she wanted to be his date in the first place.

And yet, inexplicably and despite all her venomous swearing, she still yanked on her boots and winter cloak to stalk back down to the courtyard.

-

What awaited her was not at all what she anticipated. No smug Slytherin boy with his arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently. 

No one at all.

The courtyard was empty.

“I'm certain he said now.” She muttered, spinning around to try and catch sight of the top of his messy, brown hair or the corner of his green robes.

Nothing.

She'd give him five minutes. After that? Sebastian could look forward to far worse than a Howler in his near future.

Sure enough, however, the front door of the castle slammed open, and heavy footsteps approached. All her prior indignant fury dissipated in lieu of a sudden and unexpected wave of shyness at the thought of facing him after her earlier outburst.

She kept her back turned, pretending to be very interested in the frozen fountain, so absorbed in its stillness that surely she couldn't have heard him approach.

Someone cleared their throat from right behind her, though, and she startled - not by their proximity, but because it did not sound like Sebastian.

And it wasn't.

She turned and was greeted by a boy she recognized vaguely as a Ravenclaw student the year below her, regarding her with a nervous smile and a hand outstretched with roses.

“Um, hello…?” She couldn't help the frown etching its way onto her features, baffled by the unexpected display, a twinge of guilt eating at her when his smile faltered a bit at her cool reception.

“I've been working up the nerve to speak to you, actually. You're always surrounded by friends, and when I saw you leave the castle alone just now, I figured - to hell with it and took a chance.” He stuttered out, trying to maintain what little composure he still owned.

With sinking dread, she knew what was coming. It had been happening all too often lately. The roses, the anxious energy rolling off him, ambushing her when she was alone. Her dormitory was filled with chocolates and flowers and sappy poetry at present, all from peers unlucky enough to pay her any attention.

As much as she loathed seeing their confidence crumble, she also wasn't about to lead anyone on. Even if Sebastian wouldn't take her, she wasn't about to go with anyone else. She'd simply spend the evening in Hogsmeade.

Just let him down easy - encourage him to sweep a girl off her feet who'd appreciate the effort.

So, she opened her mouth to do just that.

“Rather audacious to offer a witch well out of your league, her most hated flower.” 

She clamped her mouth shut and scowled as the boy went pale, both turning to look at the third participant to their private conversation.

Sebastian, leaning against the fountain, observing the pair with a smirk, seemed wholly unbothered by the fact he was the sole cause for the younger boy looking positively nauseated.

“I-I swear I didn't know you hated roses. I would never have -”

“Run along. You should be studying.” Sebastian encouraged lazily, showing him away with a dismissive flick of his hand.

The scathing glare she shot Sebastian while the pitiful boy did, in fact, leave with his tail between his legs, did little to wipe off his grin. In fact, it only widened when she scolded him.

“You have some nerve accusing anyone of insulting me, considering how fluent you are in it.” She said dryly. “You'd better have a damn good reason for dragging me out here.”

“You came of your own accord - I hardly dragged you. Don't be dramatic.” Sebastian replied, rubbing it in further that she stupidly came running like a cruppy the moment he beckoned, despite wanting to gut him.

If he called for her solely to gloat and mock her further, she wasn't about to stand and take it. 

“My bed is far more tempting than freezing my ass off out here with someone who hasn't had a kind word for me all day.”

She turned to leave, but as expected, Sebastian reached out to grab her by the shoulder and pull her back.

It was a game they both were familiar with by now - he'd piss her off, she'd pretend to leave, and he'd coax her back in. As always, she simply sighed and let him steer her.

“Now, now - let's not be hasty. I've come with a peace offering!” He said easily, pulling an envelope out of his robe pocket.

She eyed it warily - it looked suspiciously similar to the rude and loud message he'd sent, still in tatters in her dorm.

“This isn't another Howler, is it?” She asked slowly, holding her hand out hesitantly but still not quite taking it - treating it like the paper might bite.

Sebastian laughed and shook his head. “Not quite - but close.” 

Annoyingly cryptic, as always.

She sighed and finally looked up from the letter to him and was taken by surprise - despite the unflappable demeanor he was trying his best to exude, Sebastian’s freckled cheeks were a bit too flushed, his expression nervous.

So he did feel bad.

That boded well for the letter at least - perhaps he'd written the apology he was too proud to deliver through spoken words?

With a sigh, she snatched the letter from him to open it.

But the moment it touched her hand, she no longer held parchment - rather, it was a delicate arrangement of purple and green.

“Dittany blooms?” She asked, cocking her head to the side and admiring them.

“You said they're your favorite.” He answered, though a bit uncertain.

Despite her reluctance to let Sebastian worm his way back into her good graces, she'd be hard-pressed to remain displeased when gifted her favorite flowers. Particularly when he was so uncharacteristically nervous about the exchange.

That didn't mean she wouldn't make him squirm a little.

“Is that a question, or are you positive these are my favorite?” She shot back sharply, fixing her gaze on him.

Squirm he did, shifting from one foot to the other while he pondered his answer. Sebastian looked less and less confident in his gift when she still refused to smile.

Merlin, it took everything in her to fight back the blush at having received her most loved plant from Sebastian Sallow himself - even harder to resist the corners of her mouth threatening to turn up the way he stumbled over himself the longer she held out.

Oh, how adorable he was when he actually stuttered after his obnoxious, arrogant display.

“I-I’m sure. They're your favorite because they're useful and your favorite colors - you hate roses because they're cliché, lilies because they're flashy, and wildflowers because they make you sneeze.” He rattled off diligently, clearly surprising even himself by how much he recalled. 

“Oh? So you were listening. Even though I was annoying?” She needled, unable to repress the light, teasing smile on her lips.

Sebastian groaned, having the decency to look ashamed, and gave her those sad mooncalf eyes that always rendered her spineless in the face of any of his transgressions.

“You are never annoying.” He said and backtracked at her withering glare. “I'll concede that I do still think this Yule Ball is annoying, however. But I failed to take into account that it is important to you.”

“And? So what if it's important to me?” She pressed, holding the bundle of herbs a bit tighter.

There was an unmistakably electric air of anticipation now. She'd been asked to this damn ball nearly a dozen times already, and it was obvious what was transpiring. But to actually be there, in the moment she'd been pining for, Sebastian with her favorite flowers in hand and that look on his face.

Not the charmingly boyish look of someone asking a girl out, mind. But rather of someone fighting the most difficult struggle of their life against their pride, knowing he'd have to admit he was wrong. His discomfort pleased her far more than flowers.

“And if it's important to you…” He began, paused, then sighed in resignation. “Then it's important to me. Now, will you please continue talking my ear off about this damn ball and rehash all the little details of your frilly dress and preferred dance so that I can get this right? I'd very much like to take you.”

His face, now gloriously red, made the moment that much better. Always so smug and nonchalant, Sebastian had successfully been reduced to a bashful, reluctant mess.

Still, she could milk it a little more.

“Oh my - damn ball? Frilly dress? Don't sound so enthusiastic, or I may very well swoon.” She said dryly, trying to look unimpressed.

Her heart was hammering.

Sebastian took the bait, though, and balked at her. “You're really not going to make this easy on me, are you?” 

“I've put in weeks of effort, I think you owe it to me to swallow your pride for two seconds.” She laughed lightly, rolling her eyes. “Come on - say it right, or I'm not forgiving you.”

Sebastian whined, and the pout on his face already had her won over. It was a weak ultimatum, considering she'd already long since forgiven him. 

“Fine.” Jaw tight, fists clenched, he inhaled deeply and muttered the question she'd been hoping to hear from him all month. “Will you go to the Yule Ball with me?” 

She smiled brightly, the most saccharine look on her face she could muster, before giving her short reply of, “No.”

Sebastian gaped, mouth opening and closing a few times as he nearly stumbled back in surprise.

“No? What do you mean, no? You've been harping on me all this time, flirting, getting all worked up, and now that I'm finally asking, you reject me?” 

“I'm still mad at you.” She said simply with a grin, admonishing him like a child. “You were cruel to me. Don't you know by now what you say to a friend you hurt?”

The colorful array of curses he muttered under his breath had her laughing wholeheartedly, but her laugh fell short when he stepped forward and grabbed her by the chin to look up at him. Her mouth went dry - gods, he looked good pissed off.

This had to be quite the struggle for him to choke out the words. 

What a treat.

Sebastian started, stopped, and started again thrice more before finally settling on careful words.

“I'm sorry, alright? I really am. Not just for brushing you off, but for calling you annoying. You are anything but, and I should be - no, I am incredibly lucky that you are my friend. And hopefully my date?” Sebastian said begrudgingly, reciting it as if he were  giving an apology to a prickly professor.

“Better.” She replied playfully. “Why the change of heart? A few hours ago, I could scarcely get a syllable out of you.”

“Oh, come on. I know you're not unaware of how…”

“How…?” She arched a brow, biting her lip to keep from laughing. This was such a nice change of pace from how she'd been practically throwing herself at him for the span of a month.

“How pretty you are, of course.” He blurted out, face positively on fire. “And I realized that top marks aren't the only thing I'd like to secure for the future.”

Reaching her hand up to delicately rest on his, still cupping her face, she replied, “So you're saying you'd like to secure me for the future, are you?”

Once more, Sebastian's inner turmoil over wearing his vulnerability on his sleeve reared its head comically, and he groaned before nodding. It was so hard to notice the winter chill when heat radiated from him in waves as it was.

“Truthfully?” He began reluctantly, as if she were asking him the impossible. “I always just assumed that I had. I realize now that was stupid, and I'm going to remedy that immediately by showering you with attention until you're sick of me.”

“Impossible. But do go on.”

“Well…” He let his hands drop down into a curiously familiar position - one the taller girls had taken with her during their impromptu dormitory lessons. “How about a dance, first of all.”

He slowly brought her into step, treading the iced-over stone walkway carefully. It was a very poor rendition of a dance, and he'd clearly not practiced a day in his life, but she melted all the same and laughed lightly, allowing him to lead. Sebastian laughed as well, not-at-all embarrassed by his two left feet, and instead reveling in how it made her smile all the more genuine.

As he fumbled the steps to their silent song, he continued speaking into her ear, telling her a secret even though no one else was around to hear them.

“We’ll start with practicing our dancing like you've been asking - clearly, you're in need of some tutoring.” He teased, drawing another giggle from her lips and heat to her cheeks.

“I strongly suspect I am not the issue in this pairing.” She chided, narrowly dodging his foot as it came down far too close to crushing her own.

Sebastian arched a brow and smirked before pushing her into a twirl with no warning, and she slipped with an undignified squawk.

He caught her though, just as she knew he'd planned, and simply dipped her down before yanking her back up unceremoniously.

“A voice as delicate and feminine as a bloody diricawl.” He taunted, tugging her against him before she could swat him for the insult, and brought them into a lazy sway while he continued pinning her to his chest in an embrace. “Ah, ah, ah - I'm not finished.”

“Not finished insulting me, or…?” She asked wryly, trying not to let her voice crack from nerves, or he'd mock that as well.

This rare proximity, as much as she wanted it, was such a drastic and startling shift that there was little she could do to prepare her composure. The scent of his musky cologne overwhelmed her senses as much as his warmth, and his pounding heartbeat spoke once more to the fact that Sebastian was nowhere near as collected as his outward demeanor would have her believe.

“Well, that I'm never finished with. But I'm not finished making the past month up to you. I'd like to dance with you as often as you'll allow.” He continued, tightening his hold. “I want to take you to Hogsmeade and watch you try on dresses - mostly to make fun of how absurd the especially tulle-heavy ones look, but also to tell you you're radiant regardless.”

Her breath hitched, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck in a bid to stave off some of the embarrassment of receiving such brazen compliments. 

Of course, he didn't let up there.

“Don't think you're getting out of telling me how charming I look in dress robes, either. I expect you to lay it on especially thick.”

“And what if I don't? What if I spend the whole week being stubbornly spiteful and refusing you, and I wait until the day of the ball to even say yes?” She challenged, pulling back to glare up at him despite her blazing face.

Sebastian looked down at her thoughtfully, not entirely surprised by her pigheadedness in the face of the flirtation she'd so desperately desired.

“You'll say yes today. I'm not worried.” He said, and if she didn't know better, she'd guess Sebastian really was quite confident in her acceptance.

Her rebuttal caught in her throat when Sebastian stopped playfully dancing with her and slipped his hand up and around the back of her head. Without warning, he firmly planted a kiss square on her lips, eliciting a surprised squeak from her.

Those damn smirking lips of his, plush and warm despite the chill air, melded against hers and she had no choice but to settle in and kiss him back - not that she really wanted to do anything else. With a sigh, she relaxed in his hold and let her own hands travel hesitantly to the front of his cloak. 

Before she could deepen the kiss, play out all the silly classroom daydreams she'd had about this precise moment, he nipped her bottom lip hard enough to draw an indignant -

“Hey!” 

As he licked the spot and then pulled away grinning impishly.

“Merlin, you're a dog. What the hell was that for?” She sputtered, swiping at her mouth with the back of her hand, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

He was more like a cat, purring and letting you rub its belly until it decided it would rather get its kicks clawing, she mused, annoyed.

Sebastian shot her a lopsided grin, looking quite pleased with himself. “Well, I got the distinct impression you'd have kept that up all night if I let you, and I'd hate for the surprise I left in your dorm to wither.” 

“What surprise?” She asked dumbly, still reeling from the sudden kiss and abrupt halt.

“I'll let you go see it if you just say yes.” He encouraged, nudging her.

“Say yes…?” Once more, she floundered for her thoughts and shook her head to clear it before realizing what he meant before answering impatiently. “Oh, fine. Yes, you already knew I was going to the Yule Ball with you - don't look so bloody smug!” 

She smacked him on the head with her bouquet of dittany, earning another, slightly longer kiss before he sent her back to her dorm to receive his surprise.

Her three befuddled roommates who greeted her outside were her first clue Sebastian was up to his usual mischief, but the dragon's hoard of dittany blooms practically spilling out the door the moment she opened it brought with them another wave of mortification.

He had quite literally filled the entire room with the purple herb, and each and every damn one was tied with an enchanted note which sang a horrid, sappy poem.

The din was enough to draw the other girls out of their room to marvel and whisper.

She was going to pay Gladrags to fit Sebastian into the most atrocious dress robes available.

And then probably tear them off him before the Ball was even over.

[pluvpluvpluv]

Small Hugs

A lil Dad!Seb because it’s been ages since I’ve done one, and Dad!Seb will forever be my favourite.

[pluvpluvpluv]

CAN YOU IMAGINE. the teNSIOn Sebastian Stressed Out Sallow holds in his body??????? Can i please for the LOVE OF MERLIN please get a Drabble of MC giving him a calm, soothing Massage???? Am not requesting smut. But if smut is where it goes I will not complain. PLEASE. He deserves relaxation and for the knots in his body to be rubbed out

(Hehe rubbed out)

I know who submitted this. 🤨

COME OFF ANON AND OWN YOUR THIRST LIKE A MAN.

Jk

Still tagging you @ellivenollivander

ANYWAY

This took a very long time because I have a thing for massage.

So, uh, here's a very soothing and then not so soothing night with Sebastian in the Undercroft.

Word count ~7400

OH GOD I FORGOT THE CONTENT WARNINGS

NSFW, 18+, smut, explicit sexual content

A Soothing Touch

Coiled with tension tighter than a spring, Sebastian groaned as yet another issue unfolded before him.

Literally.

The parchment, hastily scribbled with playful words in the familiar scrawl of his dear friend, lay creased on the nightstand next to his dorm bed.

He had been looking forward to a well-deserved and early night of sleep, trudging into the blessedly unoccupied room he shared with three others. The persistent nightmares ever since the catacombs, rigorous studies, his mountains of stress and crippling anxiety only compounding by the day…

All he wanted - all he needed - was a good night’s sleep. Even Nurse Blainey seemed to agree when Sebastian begrudgingly entered the Hospital Wing during dinner, dark bags under his eyes and a sluggish stride, to confide in her his shameful predicament - or rather, as much of it as he was willing to divulge.

Nightmares, he'd explained. Her uncharacteristically sympathetic coos made him all the more humiliated to be there, coddled by the school nurse, and fussed over for missing his poor uncle and sister after their tragic accident. Much of him ached to spit on the floor the moment she, or anyone else, dared to express pity for his uncle rotting in hellfire where he belonged. That would be counterproductive, however, and would sabotage the intricately spun tale he, Ominis, and his favorite savior of a witch spread about what allegedly happened in Feldcroft's tombs.

Solomon, heroic ex-Auror and doting guardian of the Sallow twins, learned of Rookwood's ilk in the catacombs defiling the dead, and had rushed in to put an end to the potential massacre which would undoubtedly occur from a dark wizard raising Inferi in a small hamlet.

A dig at Sebastian, no doubt, and Ominis's idea to give a shred of truth to the lie.

A dark wizard had, in fact, raised an army of Inferi. If left unchecked, his thoughtless actions would have spelled disaster for Feldcroft, and likely Anne as well, loathe as Sebastian was to admit Solomon was right about him being a reckless little bastard.

So, when the time came to claim that his wretched uncle was a hero, he simply swallowed down the thick, yellow bile of hate and feigned the part of a sullen, mourning nephew. Sullen and mourning, he was, at least, but not for his uncle - no, he was utterly lost without his sorely-missed other half, Anne, as well as for the loss of his innocence.

All three Unforgivables in the span of a single schoolyear. It took life-altering regret and a splintered soul to realize they were forbidden for a reason.

And as he'd stood before Blainey earlier that evening, a reluctant grimace on his face while she droned on uselessly about overcoming grief and looking to bright skies ahead, a genuine smile tugged at his lips when she finally handed him the glass vial he'd visited for, lavender potion inside swirling invitingly.

A Potion for Dreamless Sleep.

The very same potion which he set down on his nightstand with a bitter whine, kissing his early bedtime goodbye while silently cursing his loyalty to the singular person he owed it to.

Her letter, taunting and cheerful in a way he could only hope to be again, beckoned him to a far corner of the castle in riddle.

She was sending him on a fucking scavenger hunt.

Every fiber of Sebastian's being screamed for him to pretend he'd never seen the summons from her, to simply down the potion and curl up under the plush covers of his bed where he so desperately needed to be. But he couldn't because he had read her note, and even if she wanted him to trek all the way to Marunweem, he would do it.

Still, that didn't mean he was happy about it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Cursing the profane mantra under his breath while he tugged his shoes back on, Sebastian closed his eyes, braced himself for an inevitably long night, and left his room once more with a sigh.

-

Each clue throughout the castle was obnoxiously simple and led him to pick up a variety of garbage along the way. Her impromptu treasure hunt might have proven somewhat fun had he not been alone or dodging detention by skulking around the castle so close to curfew.

A few sprigs of lavender from the Greenhouse, incense from the Onai's classroom, a candle from the Great Hall, a bottle of pumpkin juice from the Kitchens, and finally - and most annoyingly - back to his room to grab the down comforter and pillow from his own bed.

All so that he could clumsily haul each acquired item all the way to the damn Undercroft, delicately balancing her requests in his arms, his blanket dragging along the floors, making him stumble all the way.

With half a mind to throw the pumpkin juice at her face when he stepped inside, Sebastian slipped in through the clock entrance into their shared sanctuary, and his annoyance grew further. The sight of her, leaned comfortably against one of the pillars with a book in her hand while she lazily flicked through the pages, all as he'd been traipsing across the expanse of a fucking castle all evening for whatever bizarre whims she found herself having.

Startling her from her readings, Sebastian approached and haphazardly dropped the blanket to the floor, letting the other items fall on it before hurling the pillow at her face.

Her indignant squawk almost made up for his troubles.

“Anything else, princess?” He asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance with her.

When she grabbed the pillow and grinned in reply, Sebastian figured she was going to retaliate. Instead, she merely fluffed it and surveyed everything he'd brought with a pleased hum.

“No, I think that'll do it.” She said, clearly amused by his growing displeasure, before patting the blanket and smoothing it out, the deep emerald bedding looking incredibly comfortable despite being on the floor.

Then, she tossed the pillow at one end and began busying herself with the rest of his curious gatherings.

While his oddball witch slipped the lavender sprig into a small, crystal jar filled with an unknown substance, she gestured behind herself at him, waving a hand toward the husk of his bed on the ground.

“Well? Go on and get comfortable - it'll only take a moment.” She ordered, distracted.

Sebastian looked from her to the blanket and scoffed with a mixture of frustration and affection for her.

“You do realize I could have just laid down in my actual bed, yes?” He pointed out, incredulous. “If all this was so that we could have a sleepover, I very well may smother you with that pillow while you sleep.”

He wouldn't - the threat was flat, as was his feigned anger. They both knew he'd happily curl up next to her and nap in the frigid Undercroft. It was how he slept best anymore, after all, the relentlessly loyal girl being his only solace and the sole non-magical way to chase off his nightmares anymore, although he'd argue that she herself was magical.

Still, that didn't make him feel any better at present - rubbing his throbbing temples with his thumbs as he gracelessly let himself sit down on the blanket, head and joints aching, eyes heavy and swollen from sleep-deprivation, and a very strong urge to cry, though he would never dare.

All he wanted was one night of rest.

Just one, singular, tiny moment of reprieve.

Tonight was clearly not his night, and he mused over his inescapable miseries, trying to tune out the way her cheerful hums and the gentle clinking of glass penetrated the shroud of gloom he cloaked himself in. He loved her and wanted to listen to her carefree songs and obsessively watch every single thing she did, but he was just so tired.

And he still couldn't fucking sleep.

That potion, sitting back in his dorm and wholly out of his reach, would have been his surefire solution and perhaps might have made life just a bit more bearable. But damn him, he just couldn't say no.

Too many years of selfishly doing whatever he wanted, part of his promise to Ominis was that he'd turn over a new leaf and listen to others for once, but all it was getting him right now was yet another restless night and a growing migraine.

A muffled voice ripped him from self-pity, and Sebastian cracked open his eyes, suppressing another whine, when he saw her hovering over him, knees in the edge of the blanket.

“What?” He snapped, wincing at his unrestrained tone.

She didn't seem to mind and shot him a lopsided smile with an arch of her brow.

“I said - take off your shirt and lay on your stomach. Shoes, too, while you're at it.” She repeated, perky, and set down two goblets of pumpkin juice off the edge of the blanket. "If you get thirsty, that'll hit the spot."

He blinked.

“What?” Sebastian repeated again, voice carrying confusion rather than its prior vitriol.

Simply rolling her eyes impatiently, she helped herself to tugging at his top, not even bothering with the buttons as she tried to just grab it and roughly pull it over his head. Sebastian sputtered indignantly and swatted her hands away, arms crossing his still-clothed chest like a scandalized girl caught dressing.

“What the hell, you menace? I'll do it myself! Stop that!” He barked out, voice cracking in surprise by the unexpected assault.

Sebastian, face ablaze, busied his fingers with undoing his buttons, turning carefully away from her so as not to expose… well, himself.

“Never in my life…” He muttered under his breath, casting a wary glare over his shoulder at the silently smirking witch before he slowly shrugged off his shirt and shoes and laid on his stomach, feeling terribly bare.

The chill of the Undercroft made him shiver despite the warm fabric beneath him, goosebumps rising on his bare flesh while he waited, uncharacteristically shy, and cursing himself for the feeling. It wasn't exactly like she'd never seen him shirtless before - having tended myriad wounds along his body after their many scraps with goblins.

She mirrored his thoughts and said with a light laugh, “You know it's nothing I haven't seen before. Quite the precious reaction, though. Prudish is a cute look on you, Sebastian.”

Ah, yet another reason for his sky-high blood pressure and unmanageable stress - her ability to tease him. It was a wonder she hadn't picked up on the fact he was hopelessly enamored with her by now, the way she seemed to have an innate talent for reading his mind and picking apart each and every one of his insecurities.

Sebastian groaned in response, voice muffled by the pillow under his face.

“You could do with a bit more prudishness considering you have no shame in asking a boy to meet you alone and demanding he disrobe. Have you no sense of self-preservation? Wait, actually, don't answer that.”

Virtues such as self-preservation and shame were obviously unfamiliar to someone who regularly went trolling the highlands, clambering through deadly forests in a skirt in pursuit of mysterious magic reservoirs.

“Oh, enough of your whining - let me get to work so you can quit bitching and start singing my praises - as should always be the case, really.” She crooned, and the goosebumps dotting his flesh anew had little to do with the chill and far more to do with the fact that her voice came directly next to his ear.

Sebastian fought the urge to squirm, knowing damn well she'd get a kick out of any visible show of discomfort, and simply let her do as she pleased - what was the worst that could happen, after all? It's not like she'd harm him.

“Praise isn't exactly what I want to - Merlin's bloody balls! What are you doing?!” Sebastian blurted out in a startled hiss, the jarring sensation of liquid dripping onto his back, making him second guess this earlier conclusion.

Surely, she was here to torture him.

“Hush, it's just lavender oil.” She dismissed his concerns, drizzling more of the warm solution onto the center of his back.

The sensation could almost be considered soothing if it weren't so -

“Weird. You're so bloody weird.” He muttered, trying to fend off the increasing desire to sit upright and wipe off his back. “What is this even getting you?”

“It's not about me - it's about you.” Her answer, simple and nonchalant, only served to fuel his confusion, and Sebastian shook his head and nestled back into place, ignoring the scattered droplets of lavender oil running down his shoulderblades now.

Perhaps it was a new spell she'd read up on - some bizarre ritual or a potion requiring a mixture of oil on a surface of human flesh. Nothing about her strange requests fazed him much anymore, and he was, at least slightly, content, to allow her to do as she pleased.

Besides, her continued gentle humming and the wafting musk of lit incense dulled his senses comfortably, and Sebastian began to relax somewhat. Maybe he could just fall asleep while she performed whatever silly task she was at.

Eyes growing heavy again, he let his gaze lazily flicker over to the book on the floor, just off the blanket. A muggle book, it seemed, from the mundanely printed title along the spine.

The Art of Massage and Other Relaxation Techniques

Before his predicament could fully click into place, Sebastian nearly shot out of his skin when her delicate, soft hands entered the mix and began spreading that damn floral grease over his lower back. As if sensing his desire to flee from her touch, she took a moment to press harder, those dainty fingers wielding far more strength than they had any business possessing.

“Be a good boy and stay still - you'll be glad you did.” She commanded, silken voice leaving little room for argument.

So, Sebastian bit his tongue and obediently remained where he was, albeit far from relaxed now.

This girl, gorgeous and perfect and everything he'd ever fantasized about, was actually touching him.

Intentionally.

Intimately.

“Fuck's sake.” He whimpered out, unable and unwilling to argue the matter and how this was torture as much as it was a blessing, because once she'd felt the oil was suitably spread over the entirety of his back, her fingers began kneading.

And he groaned.

“Nice, right?” She giggled from above, the tips of her fingers purposefully tracing along the curvature of his spine before pressing into the dips of his shoulders. “Believe it or not, I've been practicing on the school cats.”

“Hardly the oddest thing you've done with yourself this semester, I'm sure.” He replied, body instinctively melting while she lavished attention on him one section at a time.

Deliberate, slow, and with ungodly skill for a girl who'd only ever massaged felines, she worked at him in silent focus until Sebastian lost track of time and everything that wasn't the feeling of her palms dragging down his bare back.

Not even caring about the mess this would surely create, he felt like one of her purring cats while her fingernails scraped deliciously up through his hair, along his scalp, brain fogged in perfect delirium. The combination of incense in the air, the soothing lavender seeping into his pores, and her touch raking away every burden his tense muscles had been carrying…

Fuck sleep - this was better.

Rubbing small, rhythmic circles down the sides of his neck, across his broad shoulders, and all the way down until her fingers reached his waistline and made the journey back up again, he was lost to everything that wasn't the absolute artistry she was performing.

“You are incredibly tense.” Her voice came out soft, appraising, not quite breaking the relaxing atmosphere.

He wanted to tell her no shit he was tense, but simply grunted in affirmation.

The steady sound of her humming that familiar tune while she traced down his arms, paying as much attention to those as she did to each finger, gently stretching out the digits to handle them with the same care she generously indulged the rest of him.

Each stroke sent Sebastian further into sheer oblivion and he vaguely mused over how this was the treatment for stress rather than potions, and he rewarded her tireless efforts over the next hour with soft grunts and moans each time she worked a particularly rough spot into submission.

Until her fingers delved down below his waistline on yet another slow descent down his now utterly relaxed torso, and he felt himself begin tensing up again, glancing over his shoulder with an accusatory glare.

“Easy, easy.” Her voice soothed quietly, a perfect match for the atmosphere. “Your legs are next. No half-measures from me - you'll be a puddle on that blanket when I'm through with you, Sebastian.”

Hearing his name spoken from those lips in such a soft tone sent him reeling, and seeing the position they were in - one he'd not taken notice of while he'd been drowning in bliss - stole any reservations he may have ever had about listening to every damn word this girl told him.

Willing himself to cease fidgeting, he bit back whatever unfounded sense of vulnerability was trying to claw its way into his common sense, and settled on drinking in the incredible vision before him - or rather, behind him.

There she was, hair messily pinned back and out of the way, sleeves of her blouse rolled up comfortably, hands and arms coated in the same oil she'd spent the better part of an evening slathering over him, and a particularly curious blush tinting her cheeks, betraying the fact even she was aware of how bold her actions were, despite whatever confidence she was exuding.

At least she owned some sense of shame.

Sebastian sighed, knowing he had little choice but to comply, and raised his hips awkwardly to allow her to slip his trousers down his legs, shuffling a bit to aid her endeavor, before she simply chucked them to the side next to his neatly folded shirt.

“Comfy?” She asked in a sing-songy tone.

Comfortable was the furthest word from his mind. Stripped down to nothing but his drawers, he began to regret once more, not just taking the damn potion and leaving her to freeze down here with her ridiculous book.

“You know, there are less elaborate ways to get my pants off.” He teased, hoping to instill the absolute impropriety of the situation to her.

No such luck.

“And yet comments like that are the quickest way to convince me to cast Diffindo on your cock.” Came her saccharine retort before she roughly pushed him back into the blanket, a far cry from the near-worship she'd been bestowing earlier.

Sebastian choked on a reply, not at all expecting something so jarringly crass after what had been the most sensual interaction they'd ever shared. Calm mood ruined, and his attention now focused on protecting his nearly-exposed manhood, Sebastian grumbled and settled in again, hoping she'd quit teasing and just get back to it already.

Of a like mindset, she did.

Sidling back to her knees, she nudged his legs apart so she could fit between them again and nestled down as she began her work on one of his thighs. Both hands kneading the muscle in tandem, not only did Sebastian have to bite back a whine, but he found himself physically biting the corner of his pillow as well, trying to enjoy the sensation of her dexterous hands gliding along his thigh while simultaneously attempting and failing to ignore how close she was to his -

Never had he been so grateful to be on his stomach, the familiar twitch of arousal between his legs springing to life with a vengeance, his face heating with the realization that they were now in dangerous waters.

Ever-so-subtly adjusting with a wiggle of his hips, Sebastian willed the traitorous erection to vanish. She really would remove it if she caught wind of him getting off to her generous touch.

“You're growing more tense.” She chided sternly, punctuating her statement with a long, deep press of her fingers into the soft flesh of his inner thigh.

It nearly hurt.

“You'll enjoy this more if you just relax. Focus on my hands and my touch rather than whatever's fluttering about in your mess of a head.”

Merlin, he wished he could forget both heads right now, but her touch was the very thing he needed to ignore if he didn't want to explain a rather scandalous mess on the blanket.

Inhaling deeply, drowning out less savory thoughts with images of mooncalves and planting dittany, Sebastian exhaled and tried to fall into another easy hour of letting her dote on him.

It worked for a time, the glaringly obvious protrusion stifled somewhat as he melted again under her touch, fingers trailing the length of each leg, massaging out the knots in his calves before diligently focusing on his feet. His attention was more centered, then, as not kicking her as the unfamiliar sensation of someone else's hands caressing him heel to toe tickled fiercely.

Still, he settled completely eventually, an unknown amount of time passing without her letting up even once. For as loose as he felt, she should have been cramped, considering she had been kneading his body like dough all evening.

And sure enough, when her presence disappeared for a moment, Sebastian assumed she was taking a break. He mourned the loss of her exquisite touch, but it would have been far too selfish to complain after she'd pampered him so thoroughly already - and for nothing in return.

But then a rushing heat struck his back again, and he did voice his complaint in the form of a yelp.

“What in the hells are you doing back there?!” Sebastian griped, corners of his eyes stinging with unshed tears from the unexpected pain after hours of soft pleasure.

“Sorry, sorry - I read that hot candle wax dripped onto the body can ease tightness. Too hot?” She asked, at least having the sense to sound apologetic.

“Too hot.” He answered curtly and instantly heard her blowing on what was surely the scalding hot wax of a freshly blown out candle from beside him.

After a few brief moments of feeling cooled wax harden on his flank, he heard her shuffle again.

“Alright, I've checked it, and it should be pleasantly warm now, though the book instructed hot, this is for your comfort, so I'm willing to deviate somewhat. Tell me if this is satisfactory?”

Expecting the sensation now, Sebastian nodded silently, sighing as warmth poured and pooled over him, the soothing candlewax searing him like a decadent bath. A slow, steady drip drip drip down him, the sound taking over for her earlier humming, and he felt at peace once more.

This was well worth the trouble of fetching all these little odds and ends for her impromptu massage parlor.

Lulled into relaxation once more, Sebastian should have expected that with her, it was never simple.

“Shit.” She whispered harshly, and before he could even question why she'd suddenly curse, he felt a sudden wave or warmth on his nethers.

And then her hands.

“What the hell?!” He croaked out, throwing caution to the wind and jumping up in surprise and twisting around to face her fully.

Hands on her slender shoulders, he stared at her in bewilderment. “Y-you just grabbed my -”

“Sorry, I dropped it and didn't want to burn you!” She squeaked back, red-faced and mortified.

Oh - he stared down at her wax-dipped hands and then further between them to the unlit, melted candle on the blanket.

She'd dropped the candle and tried to grab it.

“Well then…” Sebastian cleared his throat awkwardly and eased his grip on her. “N-no harm.”

Except, of course, there was harm.

To his pride.

Because nothing was ever fucking simple with this one.

And when he looked back up at her, disheveled and flustered, lips parted prettily in her own look of surprise, he couldn't help but notice her eyes were still staring straight back down at his waist - and the very obvious sign of his growing interest in everything she'd been doing.

Breath hitching, she looked back up at him, startled, and pushed him back onto his stomach in a hurry, knocking the wind out of him.

“R-right - back to it, then. No more wax.” She said hurriedly.

She'd seen it.

He knew she'd seen it, and she knew that he knew that she knew and his thoughts spiraled into hellish anxiety from then on.

Her hands were less confident and shaking slightly while they ghosted over his form again, clearly urging herself to continue as if nothing had happened.

He groaned, knowing the evening and everything she'd innocently and thoughtfully planned for him was spoiled by his damn anatomy.

“You really don't have to continue, you know. It's alright, you’ve done plenty. I feel loads better.” He lied through his teeth, now even more tightly wound than when he'd arrived.

“No!” She said immediately, her hands stopping their anxious roaming to rest, palms flat, against his shoulders. “You're so stressed out. I just want to help you unwind. You deserve a bit of pampering. Just let me help you.”

“Your insistence, while endearing, I assure you, does very little to negate the fact that I can't relax when you're exuding copious amounts of nervous energy right now.” He said, allowing himself to chuckle softly at the sheer absurdity of their unique circumstance.

“I'm sorry.” She said quietly. “I… I thought I was doing something kind for you, but if it feels bad -”

He cut her off swiftly, “You and I both are fully aware I think everything you've done feels damn good. You are not enjoying yourself.”

“J-just shut up and let me work if you're serious about it feeling alright.” She barked back, pushing him down against the soft blanket with more force than necessary - her embarrassment palpable as she seemed to consider her thoughts for a moment. “...I'm actually glad you're enjoying it so much. It's just… unexpected. But not… unwelcome.”

Sebastian's eyebrows shot into his hairline while he processed exactly what that meant.

Not unwelcome.

Did she mean it was welcome?

Or was she simply making an attempt to gloss over the whole thing and spare them both any further awkward discussion.

His mind reeled with possibilities as he deciphered her words one million different ways, not even registering that she'd begun her massage once more in earnest, the pleasure of her touch vastly overshadowed by the mere hint of her potential interest in him.

While Sebastian’s thoughts waded through a veritable bog of promising moments and mixed signals from throughout their friendship, she redoubled her efforts to touch and soothe him, drawing more unintentional noises of praise and contentedness from his lips.

It was only when her lips joined the fray that Sebastian was sufficiently drawn back into reality.

Her hands, soft and slender, still caressed his shoulders while she'd taken to straddling one of his thighs for better balance. And Merlin, her lips pressed featherlight kisses down the back of his neck.

Sebastian shivered, thrilled by the development, and rewarded her doting with an intentionally louder moan of her name.

And then, he could have simply died.

There, on the back of his exposed thigh she was straddling, the unmistakable sensation of something wet and warm dripped onto him.

Not wax - definitely not wax.

Not when he could feel the heat from between her legs where she was hovering over him. The way her breath hitched and her hands froze was just as telling.

“Are you - are you turned on?” Sebastian asked, utterly gobsmacked by this delicious revelation.

“I-I…” She floundered for a long while, unable to form a single useful word, and Sebastian made up his mind then and there.

She'd done more than enough after all, hadn't she? Gone to the effort of setting all this up and then proceeded to pamper him for the entire evening.

Twisting around before she could flee, as he was quite certain she would try to do, Sebastian pinned her on her back like a wolf, taking only a breath's moment to really look at her. Pretty face an even prettier shade of scarlet, her prior easy expression now a reflection of his own hesitant desire, her entire visage was one of perfection.

“I'm going to kiss you now, alright?” Sebastian asked slowly, teetering on the very edge of restraint - while he could presume she very much wanted him by now - the glistening of her own slick down her thighs, exposed by her hitched up skirt, glaringly obvious - this whole ordeal was already putting their bond at risk.

He'd give her one last opportunity to turn him away.

To Sebastian’s immense relief, she nodded.

Descending on her immediately, he claimed her lips with a whimper, whether hers or his he wasn't sure, but it felt perfect.

From there, all bets were off.

No delicate, timid first kiss. No second-guessing. For once in his miserable life, Sebastian felt confident this was something that was wholly his - she was his. Patience wasn't about to whet his appetite.

With a hunger that surprised even him, he beared down on her, laying the weight of his body over hers and pinning her in place beneath him. Her eager reciprocation urged him on.

“I've always thought you were terribly pretty.” He pulled back just long enough to breathe out, a pitiful attempt at bringing some sentimentality to the moment before continuing to ravish her.

She let out a soft hum of appreciation in reply.

Sebastian’s thigh now snug between her legs, he allowed her enough breathing room to suffice herself with some manner of friction against her core while his hands busied themselves with ridding her of her blouse. His own clothes blessedly mostly already shed, he made crude work of clumsily bringing her to a similar state of undress between feverish kisses.

After all but devouring her throat, his mouth traveled downward to familiarize himself with the peaks of her breasts. Mouthing hungrily over each nub, allowing his hand to devote attention to whichever one his swirling tongue was not presently occupied with, Sebastian released her for only a moment to shimmy off her skirt, and then crawled back up to claim her lips again.

Before long, he was finished with haphazardly shucking the last articles of both their clothing to the floor, her attempts to assist him in the endeavor ignored entirely as, “It'll be faster if you just let me, love.”

Faster, it was indeed, as he completed his task with the dexterity and speed of a man with a wand to his throat.

Sebastian's tongue found itself at home in her mewling mouth, one hand enveloping her breast again and the other working itself between her legs, taking the place of his thigh.

“How're you so wet?” He groaned, plunging a finger into her inviting heat. “Don't tell me you have a thing for massage?”

Her resulting gasp of his name was heavenly.

“Well, touching you for the better part of an evening has given me a new appreciation for the activity.” She answered, obediently raising her hips as much as their proximity would allow to buck against his hand.

“Likewise.” Sebastian slowly said as he slipped another digit into her tight heat, the walls clenching around his fingers so greedily it made his already twitching cock ache with a desire to replace them.

Every book he’d ever read on the subject dictated that he needed to properly work her open, though. A witch was a delicate creature in bed, fierce as they were outside of it, and they required proper stretching.

Or something.

Sebastian promptly stopped caring about technical literary advice on how to effectively fuck a girl when said witch grabbed hold of his shaft and pumped it.

Her eyes met his in a heated, pleading look.

“Please, it's been torture waiting so long. I need you.”

Obliging a woman's requests was also part of his sordid reading, which was how he rationalized skipping over all the bits he'd painstakingly memorized about teasing and build-up and simply complied. A massage could count as adequate foreplay this time.

Hell, she was dripping and he'd barely fucked her with a couple fingers for a few minutes. While his fingers had significantly less girth than the specific appendage she was begging for, he knew he wouldn't hurt her.

“As magical as your skill is with those lovely hands of yours, I'm inclined to agree.” He said simply, dragging the tips of his digits once more along the front of her walls, smirking as she threw her head back and wailed before extracting them entirely.

The slick glistened on his fingers erotically, and Sebastian kept his gaze fixed on her while he slipped them into his mouth.

She whimpered, and it made the taste of her arousal all the sweeter as he ran his tongue over his coated fingers. Sheer bliss coursed through him in a shiver, and he closed his eyes before withdrawing his hand and lowering it to his throbbing member.

Offering her a taste of herself as well, Sebastian pressed his lips against hers, tongue taking up residence in her mouth once more while his hand worked at his cock, stiff and covered in the remnants of her mess.

He pulled back to get a good look at her, never wanting to see anything quite as much as the look on her face the moment he took her.

Sebastian adjusted himself, lowering his hips and using his free hand to maneuver her leg over his shoulder. When the tip of his cock pressed insistently against her sopping entrance, she gasped lightly, biting into the plush of her bottom lip while she looked up at him, eager.

Her final nod was all he needed, and with a disjointed grunt, he slowly pushed inside.

“F-fuck -” Sebastian choked out - he knew she'd be tight, but this was fucking insane.

Cunt constricting around his tip tighter than he could have dreamed to the point it was nearly painful, he pushed in further and her hands flew up to his shoulders, nails digging in.

He hissed from the absolutely delicious sensation, drooping down slightly to give her a better angle to hold onto him.

Left hand firmly holding her leg over his shoulder, his other hand wrapped around the back of her head, fingers in her hair, while he kept upright with his forearm rested against the blanket beneath them. Her skin was slick and lavender-scented and calming, a contrast to the urgency he felt to bury himself in her.

Easing into her, Sebastian did his best to show some restraint, pulling back only to push a bit further with each rock of his hips. Her grip grew tighter on him with each successive intrusion, and with a final, firm thrust he practically folded over on her, capturing her lips in a kiss the moment he was fully seated inside her.

He remained still for just a moment, relishing how absolutely exquisite she felt beneath him.

How long had he craved this closeness with her?

Her lips, panting ragged against his while he bruised them further. Arms wrapped snugly around her neck, holding him close as she could, clinging to him - just like he wanted. Her body, lithe and familiar, splayed out beneath him - for him.

Such a stark difference to the precocious thing constantly hassling him and joking around. Now, his witch was obedient and pliable. Clutching onto him for dear life, eager to let him claim her.

From the marks his teeth left along her throat, he'd certainly already made it quite clear who she belonged to, but this new possessive streak taking hold demanded that he turn her from a whimpering, writhing puddle into a screaming, satisfied lover, filled with his seed.

Never in his life had he wanted to own something as completely as he needed to consume her.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” Sebastian breathed out, wanting to savor the moment of finally having her just a little longer. “You've had me so hard all night, fuck you're incredible.”

His body had a mind of its own, though, and when she called his name again, pleading, he pulled out slowly, almost completely, before entering her once more. Her eyes shut in ecstacy when he ground himself into her, desperate to get as deep into her womb as he could.

“You're so hard-” She whined out, voice strained.

Of course he was - with her looking and sounding and feeling like that. Hell, he'd never been harder in his life.

“You did this, you know.” Sebastian praised lowly, forcing himself to keep a pace slow enough for her to adjust to him - enough that she could feel every inch of him with each roll of his hips. “You're taking responsibility for what you did here.”

He didn't know where it came from, the filth falling from his lips so effortlessly for her. But her cunt, pulsing tighter around his swollen member with each word only spurred him on.

“Such a good girl for me. Go on and take what's yours.” He punctuated the point with a particularly rough snap of his hips, and she practically sobbed his name.

One of her hands fell to the blanket, gripping the fabric tightly, and Sebastian took that as his cue to pick up the pace. Just a bit more, no longer the torturously slow rhythm he'd subjected them to thus far. The very last thing he wanted was to spoil the moment by taking her too roughly after she'd so diligently crafted the sensual atmosphere of the night.

“Sebastian, please just fuck me. I-I can't take it anymore. Fuck me.” She sounded foreign to his ears, begging and staring up at him with half-lidded eyes, rutting back against him so erotically. “I need your cock - I need it harder, please don't hold back.”

He froze, breath hitching with the realization that he'd done this to her. Simpering beneath him, her legs spread while she asked so prettily for more.

“Shit.”

With a groan, Sebastian felt himself grow feral. If she didn't want to be treated delicately, who was he to argue?

In a temporarily regrettable movement, he pulled out of her completely, her visible arousal coating him dripping down his shaft as well to his own thighs. No time to admire the sight, though, and he ignored her indignant protests of put the damn thing back in as he grabbed her other leg and slung it over his shoulder as well.

“You want me so badly? You'll have me, then. Don't forget you asked for this.”

Doubling the sinfully erotic witch over on herself, Sebastian mercilessly re-entered her, balls swinging against her ass as he fully seated himself in a single thrust so they both saw stars.

Fuck letting her adjust. he'd take her sweetly another day.

Setting a pace so brutal she struggled to match him, Sebastian kept her waist propped up at the most incredible angle, railing downward into her as he fucked her with precisely the unrestrained enthusiasm they both needed.

With what was undoubtedly a grip that would leave bruises on the plush flesh of her legs, he kept her legs firmly on his shoulders.

The only sounds filling the once peaceful Undercroft were her hoarse cries while he jackhammered into her, the smacking of their sweat-slick flesh with each frenzied plunge, and his own barely coherent praise.

“Take it - take all of me. So good, you're so goddamn good.” He choked out, forcing more gorgeous gasps and moans from her throat.

The angle was so perfect. He could see all of her, from her breathtaking features twisting in pleasure and purring his name, breasts bouncing with every movement, and the sight of his cock disappearing into her soaked folds. It was the sort of image he'd want seared into his memory forever.

Her climax came so swiftly it caught Sebastian off-guard, but her sharp exhale of his name and the fluttering of her walls around his merciless cock told no lies.

Kind enough to allow her to ride it out, Sebastian marveled at the sight of her, flushed and eyes wrenched shut in pure ecstasy while he maintained the pace he'd set that'd made her dissolve into pleasure.

So she liked it this rough, did she?

Noted.

“Merlin, you look so perfect taking my cock like that.” He praised, brought to the precipice of his own release just from watching her fall apart on him.

Those lovely eyes of hers still hazy from her finish bored into his, and his pace slowed slightly.

“Sebastian, please come in me. I need to feel it.” She keened, desperation dripping from her tone the way she was about to drip from the slit he was now hell-bent on filling.

With as much grace as he could manage, Sebastian dropped her legs back down and laid flush against her, needing to feel the heat and closeness of her body as his climax came at near-breakneck speed.

Her arms looped back around his shoulders, pinning him to her while he enveloped her in another whimpering, messy kiss.

Hips no longer able to keep a steady pace, they stuttered, and he grunted into her mouth, letting the smell and feel of her in his arms overwhelm his senses while he slipped into oblivion. Deep as Sebastian could bury his cock into her, he flooded her with everything he'd built up.

Her name fell hoarse on his lips while he continued pumping mindlessly, using her tight core to milk every last drop of his seed into her. The resulting breathy moan of his name made his emptied cock twitch, and he knew damn well he'd be painting those same walls countless more times from then on - as much as she'd allow.

For now, however, Sebastian was spent.

As the vigorous adrenaline of railing the girl he'd secretly harbored feelings for wore off, all his prior exhaustion fell over him like a blanket. Peppering her still-scarlet face with lazy, affectionate kisses, Sebastian unsheathed himself with a groan.

And took a blessed moment to smirk with pride at the state of her.

Come dripping from between her legs, her heaving, satisfied form staring in blank bliss at the stone ceiling while she recovered, and the striking array of bruises forming over her body.

“Still care to finish that massage?” He asked, breathless and teasing.

Her reply came in the form of a whining groan.

When she found herself again, and they'd both rested up in the admittedly filthy little nest of blanket, pillow, and candle-wax they'd created, he'd return the favor and dote on her a bit. For now, however, Sebastian had never felt better. Tension gone from his body, worries eased from his now-still mind and compounding fatigue, which he welcomed because, after all, he slept his best by her side anyway.

So, he curled up next to her with a satisfied groan and tugged her body to him, stirring her finally from her stupor long enough for her to sleepily burrow against his chest.

He smoothed her hair and laid a leg over her, still needing to feel her close to him as possible, and kissed the top of her head gently. Her contented little hum made his chest clench with sheer adoration.

Love, a relationship, a future.

They could sort out what this all meant in the morning. Sebastian figured they were likely on the same page, anyway.

For now, he was more than happy to languidly bask in the afterglow of their spontaneous union and her clear affection for him.

The school cats would likely hate him more after this, though, because Sebastian would be the only one she needed to practice her massage on from now on.

Not that there was any room for improvement.

Maybe she'd let him give it a go on her next time?

[pluvpluvpluv]

He is Autumn 🍁🍂

[pluvpluvpluv]

Catnap

18+ || MDNI || Content Warnings: Language probably because it's me but otherwise this is just hopefully adorably disgusting fluff, MC is also very anxious and worried about where her boyfriend went off to

Word Count: ~1.0k

Sebastian Sallow x f!MC x Ominis Gaunt

A/n: A silly little Drabble to contribute to the collective catnip prompt. Enjoy Omi scaring the shit out of his partners

~~~~~

MC felt like she had scoured the entire castle at this point. She had finished her NEWT exam, taking longer than both of her boyfriends, and now one was missing. Huffing, she ended up in front of the fountain in Central Hall. She perked up slightly, seeing a familiar tuft of brown hair moving towards her, but she deflated when she realized Sebastian Sallow was alone and not accompanied by the third member of their triad.

“He hadn’t gone back to your dorm?” She wrung her hands together, starting to grow worried over the whereabouts of Ominis Gaunt.

Sebastian shook his head, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “No he hadn’t. But we’ll find him, love. There’s one spot neither of us checked yet and I’m certain that’s where he is.”

She was silent as she allowed Sebastian to lead her up to the seventh floor, and he gave her a reassuring smile once the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy came into view.

“Of course,” she thought, a relieved smile settling on her face.

She had shown both boys her version of the Room of Requirement, and she had also informed them how they could access it without her, at the end of their sixth year. The trio had spent many days and nights utilizing it for studying for the test they just finished, and promptly destressing with the beasts in the vivariums or in the bedroom that the room so graciously provided after they had all slept on the floor and woken up with aching bones.

As they walked into the familiar room, MC deflated when her missing boyfriend wasn’t on the main couch. He wasn’t in the bed they’d share either, where she was hoping to find him cozy and wrapped up in blankets.

Sebastian knew exactly where they’d find Ominis as soon as he had realized the blond would be in their Room. He waited patiently for MC to check their bed before he offered a hand to her.

“C’mon, love. You didn’t actually think he’d pick a bed over his favorite room, hmm?”

She tilted her head as she looked at him, but she took his hand regardless. The second they walked into the grassland vivarium, home of the puffskeins, nifflers, and mooncalves that MC had rescued over the last three years, all of her previous anxieties melted away.

Usually, when any of the three of them entered, the beasts swarmed them eagerly looking for a brushing and some other attention. Today, however, none of them left the picnic blanket that was laid out in the middle of the green field. Though, ‘blanket’ felt like too small a descriptor. It was almost like a ship’s sail with how large it was. Laying in the middle of everything else, with none other than The Irondale Pilferer on his stomach, slept Ominis. MC grabbed Sebastian’s arm tightly, resisting the urge to ruin the scene in front of them.

“Oh he looks so peaceful,” she murmured, looking up at Sebastian with wide eyes. “I-I mean it would be rude of us to wake him, no?”

Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “After the stress he put you through, and then the stress that you put me through? No. He can wake up for five minutes. He falls asleep like it’s nothing.”

He practically dragged MC towards the blanket, letting her go to squat down and rub at his boyfriend’s chest and shoulder.

“Ominis. Wake up, darling,” he crooned softly, not wanting to startle him awake. His smile widened when he was graced with the sight of his favorite shade of blue. “There you are. Hello, sleepyhead. We searched the whole castle for you, you know.”

The blond simply made a soft grunt in acknowledgment as he sat and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. The niffler that was forced to relocate seemed to huff in annoyance, moving to curl up in the corner where his mate was basking.

“What do you mean you searched the whole castle for me? I only just got here.”

“No, darling, we couldn’t find you after I finished my exam. I got worried. We were supposed to meet in the courtyard.”

He turned towards MC’s voice, his cheeks flushing a lovely shade of pink.

“Oh. Right. I suppose I forgot. I just wanted some time with the creatures after NEWTs. I only meant to come up for a moment.”

“It’s alright. We found you. Sebastian claims he knew you’d be here when he didn’t find you in your dorm. I was less convinced.”

MC moved so she could rest her head on Ominis’ shoulder. His arm immediately wrapped around her waist and he pressed a kiss to her head. It made sense that she’d be more worried out of his two partners. She still carried that anxiety that people were after her from fifth year, and that concern now applied to him and Sebastian now as well.

“I’m sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s alr–” she was cut off by a yawn, and she instinctively moved herself closer to Ominis. “It’s alright. I can’t blame you. I think you might’ve had the right idea.”

Sebastian chuckled, now sat on Ominis’ other side, and his arm went around the blond’s waist.

“We realize that you’ve already gotten a bit of a cat nap in, Omi, but perhaps you could indulge us and we could all take a nap.”

He promptly moved and laid down, offering himself up as a pillow and collecting his and MC’s discarded robes to be his own. MC grinned, laying down on Sebastian’s chest and pulling Ominis down with her.

“Seb’s right. We’ve worked hard. Our academic careers are over. We’ve earned one last nap in our place.”

Ominous shook his head, but he couldn’t fight the smile that graced his lips when they teamed up against him. He moved closer to MC, throwing an arm over her as he felt Sebastian’s hand tangling in his hair.

“I suppose another nap won’t hurt. We don’t have anywhere else to be.”

In the warmth of the sun and the comfort of each other, the three eventually drifted off.

[pluvpluvpluv]

you are a wildflower garden growing in my head

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC/Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None

Summary: When she learns that Ominis Gaunt is well versed in floriography, she insists on him giving her lessons to learn the language of flowers. Thankfully, he ins't too hard to convince. Requested by @applinsandoranges

A/N: I loved researching Floriography a bit (or maybe a lot) for this fic!!! I'm sure it's not perfect, but I tried my best to be as accurate as possible. Thank you thank you THANK YOU to applins for requesting, I loved writing this so much!!!

Normally, the courtyard was pretty quiet—it was what made it an ideal place to study in the early spring, when the snow had just finished melting and trees had started to bud. She and Ominis had made a habit of sitting out there in the late afternoons, when Sebastian was serving his various detentions. 

That day didn’t seem to qualify for normal. 

Everett Clopton was chasing after a weeping Adelaide Oakes, who had burst out into wailing tears mere moments ago. 

“Addie, what did I do wrong?” Everett shouted after her, the flowers he had given her left on the ground where he had thrown them. “I’m sorry! Come back!” 

The ruckus caused quite the stir in the courtyard, students looking up from their studies to watch the pair—she herself couldn’t help but stop her reading, observing them with a furrowed brow. 

“What was all that?” Ominis asked from beside her. 

“Everett Clopton just gave Adelaide Oakes some flowers, then she ran off crying,” she summarized quickly. “Pretty unexpected turn of events. I always thought she returned his feelings.” 

Ominis frowned. “What flowers did he give her?”

She took a closer look at the flowers laying on the ground, tilting her head a bit. “They’re petunias, I think.” 

The loud laugh from beside her caught her off guard—Ominis usually contained his amusement pretty well, especially in public, so his loss of composure made her brow furrow. “What on earth is so funny?” she asked, perplexed. 

Ominis sat himself back up, taking a deep breath. Small chuckles still escaped him, but he seemed to have control of himself now. “Petunias,” he began, “Mean anger and resentment. No wonder Adelaide was upset.” 

Her own lips turned up in the corners. “Seems like poor Everett didn’t have a clue,” she said. “But to be far, neither did I.” 

“I’m not surprised Adelaide caught on,” Ominis said. “Hufflepuffs are usually more inclined to plantlife, aren’t they?”

“I suppose,” she replied. “Hold on, how do you know the meaning of petunias?”

She didn’t miss the slightest blush that covered Ominis’s cheeks. “My sisters,” he answered. “It’s a form of sending messages that normally wouldn’t be allowed to be shared when properly courting. They’d receive bouquets from suitors and would sit and talk about their meanings for hours, speculating it from every angle. I grew a bit fascinated by it, and learned what I could about the subject flower meanings.” He gave a small smile. “I know much more than the meaning of petunias.”

She smiled, thinking of a young Ominis delving into such topics. She rarely heard him talk about things he was excited about, especially from when he was younger. There was a certain glow to his features when he did—one that fit beautifully with his handsome features. It was subtle; something people who’d spent less time observing Ominis would likely have missed. But she had become somewhat of an expert in the slight expressions on her friends face—likely due to the extended periods of time she found herself staring at him. It had only gotten worse as they grew closer—as her feelings for him became stronger. 

“How come you’ve never told me about any of it?” she asked. 

He shrugged. “You never asked.”

“Well, I’m asking now.” 

He chuckled, hands reaching for his textbook once more. “Fine then. I’ll give you a lesson in floriography. Just give me some time to prepare for it. We better finish our Potions homework in the meantime; Sebastian will need someone to copy off of later tonight.”

She sighed, but didn’t argue. She’d hold him to his lessons, she’d make sure of that. 

-

It took a few days of pestering him until he finally told her he’d teach her about flowers later in the afternoon. She agreed to meet him by the Black Lake—the spring had started to warm up, and being near the water seemed like a wonderful idea. 

When she trekked down to their meeting spot, her eyes widened a bit at the scene. No wonder he had wanted to take a bit of time to prepare—he’d gone out and gathered a wide variety of flora, each of them sitting around him. She couldn’t help but think that anyone who didn’t know of their intentions would have taken the scene as a romantic one. 

He heard her approach, smiling up at her and patting the ground beside where he sat. “My student has arrived.”

“You better not assign me homework,” she said, sitting down. She enjoyed the chuckle her comment drew out of him. 

“I’m sure you’re busy enough studying for N.E.W.T.S. already,” he said. 

She groaned. “God, don’t remind me. I came to escape that for a while.” 

“Well, hopefully I won’t take up too much space in your head with this useless information.”

“Hang on,” she protested. “Don’t go calling it useless. Seemed like Everett would have benefited greatly with this knowledge. Besides, who knows when I’ll have a secret message to decode?” 

He faced away from her, busying himself by grabbing a couple of the plants beside him. Was his face a bit flushed–? Surely not. It was perfectly clear when his head tilted toward her once more. 

“As you learned not long ago, not all flowers are fit for a display of love or affection.” He smiled a bit. “In fact, a lot of them have sentiments more akin to the opposite. For example…”

He reached to his side, pulling forward a cluster of small flowers, bright pink with white on the edges of the petals. “These are China Pinks, or Indian Pinks. I’ve been told they’re quite lovely. But looks can be deceiving, as the mean the giver has an aversion for the receiver.” 

She laughed a bit. “That would be a shock to receive, I’m sure.” 

He grinned. “Precisely. If one wanted to be a little less harsh in their message, one could instead give someone everflowering candytuft—”

“Candytuft?” she interrupted, giggling.

He shook his head in mock annoyance. “Yes, candytuft. Don’t be fooled by its sweet name, it means indifference.” He placed a white flower with many layers down in front of her. 

“Are all these flowers a way of telling me how you really feel about me?” 

Ominis laughed at that. “No, I just wanted to give you a sample of some of the things you can say. Those last two are just as untrue of my sentiments for you as the message this next one conveys.” He showed her a small white flower with a yellow center and red dot on each petal. 

“What’s that one mean? I’m going to burn down your house?” 

“It means ‘I die tomorrow.’”

Her jaw dropped, and she couldn’t help but let out a surprised laugh. “Do people really tell people things like that through flowers?”

Ominis shrugged, setting the flower aside. “They must, if it’s a well-known enough meaning.” 

“I’ll never look at flowers the same way again.” 

“They’re not all bad,” he promised. He continued with his lesson, bringing forth each flower he had brought. She listened to each one very attentively, thoroughly enjoying listening to him. He was right—it was a fascinating topic. She learned magnolias represented a love for nature. Mountain laurels stood for ambition. The colors mattered greatly, too—a red columbine meant anxious and trembling, while a purple one meant the giver was resolved to win.

By the time the sun came to rest on the horizon, her head was swimming with various names and meanings. They’d gone through all of the samples Ominis had brought her, and he seemed satisfied with the lesson he’d given her. 

“There better not be a test,” she said as he gathered up the flowers around them. He grinned. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not that cruel.”

The two of them stood, ready to be on their way. “I’ve got to visit Poppy about nifflers she says she spotted,” she told him, wishing she could spend the time it took to walk back to the castle with him. 

“Ah, of course. You and your beasts,” he said with a small smile. He shifted on his feet. “Before you go, I’d like you to have this.” 

He handed her a large red flower, tall and curving with strange petals sticking up all down the length of it. She took it from him, brows furrowed. “I don’t remember what this one meant. You haven’t showed it to me yet, have you?” 

“Not yet, no,” he said, voice quiet. 

“What’s it mean?” 

He smiled at her softly. “I’ll tell you soon enough.” 

And with that, he headed off toward the castle. 

-

She really tried not to think too much about the large flower occupying the vase in her dorm room over the next several days. Tried being the key word. Every time she walked into her room and saw it, she couldn’t help the slight flip of her stomach, remembering the slight blush Ominis had sported while handing it to her. 

Surely it was something simple and lighthearted. Surely it was some sort of jab or joke, and not any sort of… confession. He had spent that whole lesson talking about what flowers meant outside of romance, hadn’t he? Why would the gift he gave her at the end be any different?

Even so, she found herself checking out a book on floriography at the library, trying to learn the secret message he’d given her. So far she’d learned nothing of it. 

It didn’t mean she didn’t learn anything, though. 

It had taken them several days to find time for another one of their little lessons, with actual studies taking the unfortunate priority. But they promised to squeeze it in on a Saturday morning just before lunch. She’d woken up early to locate one of the things she’d latched onto while reading her book—a variegated tulip. 

Beautiful eyes, the book had told her. She figured if he got to tantalize her by giving her that flower, the least she could do was try to flatter him a bit into telling her. She hoped it wasn’t too forward; she’d told him his eyes were lovely before, but to do so in a language so dear to him—well, it just felt a bit intimate. 

In any case, she found herself headed to the very same shore of the Black Lake, seeing a scene much like the first time they had met there. Ominis sat there with a group of flowers, but this time, they were all bunched together, forming a mis-match bouquet. 

She grinned as she plopped down beside him, tulip tucked away. “That looks lovely.”

Ominis chuckled. “I hope so. All I know is it smells pretty decent.” 

“Is that how you tell all of them apart?” she asked. “The scent?”

He nodded. “That and the texture of the petals. Though I’ve gotten used to using my nose first—I’ve ruined a good number of flowers by manhandling them.” 

She laughed. “It’s a bouquet this time.” 

“Very observant of you,” he teased. She gave him a gentle shove in response, making him laugh. “Don’t abuse your teacher!”

“Don’t patronize your student,” she said, grinning. 

He shook his head. “As my amazingly brilliant and very astute student pointed out, I’m holding a bouquet—” she shoved him again— “which will be the focus of our lesson today.” 

“Permission to leave class early?”

“No.”

“Fine.” 

He chuckled, his fingers beginning to gently run along the different flowers he held in the bunch. “Last time we went over some of the more specific and less used meanings. Today I’m hoping to touch on some of the more common flowers, ones you’d be more likely to come across.”

“Sounds practical.”

“Precisely. I’ve gathered them in a bouquet for you—often times you’ll receive a bouquet so the sender can express more complex feelings, allowing the combination to give a better overview of their emotions and perception of you. So let’s dive in.” 

His finger pointed out a stem holding a few small white flowers. “These are white bell flowers, an expression of gratitude.” 

She hummed. “I like those ones. They’re pretty.” 

He smiled and nodded, turning the bouquet. “Here are oak-leaved geraniums, meaning true friendship.” 

She tilted her head, scooting a bit closer to him for a better look at the pink petals. “How sweet,” she said, smiling. 

His ears went a little red. “The next one needs a bit of an explanation as to why I included it in your bouquet, but—”

“Wait, my bouquet?” she asked. 

“Yes, your bouquet,” he said, red spreading to his cheeks and across his nose. “Now let me continue.” 

“I… carry on, then.” 

His fingers ran over the flowers he’d been indicating once more. “Water willows are representative of freedom. You’re always running off to some place, despite all the rules you should follow, so… freedom.” 

She nodded beside him. “That makes sense.”

He continued on, explaining the reasoning of each flower there in her bouquet. Each one made her heart beat a little faster—he’d spent all that time, thinking of her, picking out exactly the right words to describe her and what she meant to him. It left her grinning like an idiot as she tried to remember each and every thing he said. None of the things he brought up trailed into the realm of romance, but she didn’t need it to. Not now, at least. It was perfect, just as it was. 

“And there you have it,” he said finally. “Your bouquet.” He held it out to her, tilting his head away from her a bit. 

“I… I don’t know what to say, Ominis,” she said, taking it from him and holding it gently. “This is… you’re too kind.” 

“You don’t need to say anything,” he said quickly. “I thought a… demonstration would be best, to help you learn about it. Sorry if I overstepped—”

“You didn’t overstep anything,” she said. “I’m just glad I at least have something to give you in return. I’m sorry it’s not a full bouquet, but it’ll have to do.”

She pulled out her tulip, which looked a little pitiful next to his varied display. But she pressed it into his hand. He felt up the stem gently, and then froze.

“Is… is this a tulip?” he asked quietly. “What color is it?”

She furrowed her brows at his reaction. “It is. It’s a variegated tulip.” 

He let out a breath he must have been holding, a small smile coming to his face. “Beautiful eyes,” he said softly. “Thank you.” 

She couldn’t help but think his smile had a strange tainted emotion behind it—one she couldn’t quite grasp. “You’re welcome. Sorry it isn’t much.”

He tilted his head in her direction. “It’s perfect.” 

-

She couldn’t help thinking about Ominis’s reaction to her tulip the rest of the day. Something about it bothered her—the way he froze up at first, the strange tension in his voice. 

It wasn’t until she looked back at her book on floriography she thought she understood why. 

She’d looked back at the page on the variegated tulip, trying to see if there was something she missed, when her eyes drifted up to the entry just above it. 

Tulip; Red - Declaration of Love. 

Her stomach churned. That had to be it. Ominis had no way of knowing what color tulip she had handed him. For all he knew, she’d been about to confess her feelings to him. 

But had he been full of dread or excitement?

She racked her brain, trying to recall every last detail of his words, he tones, his movements. But to no avail. She was just as clueless of his feelings for her as before

The coming days didn’t help, either. As much as she tried to observe the way he interacted with her, all she learned was… well, that she loved him. She already knew that, of course. But she kept being reminded of all the little reasons why. 

Like the way he whispered snarky jokes to her in class. The way he smiled so slightly when he was amused. The way he walked her to class, even it made him late to his own. Everything about him, really. 

She loved that he made the time to have one final lesson, right before N.E.W.T.S., too. 

Being so sure of her feelings now, she decided to take a risk. Which was why, before she left for the Black Lake, she tucked a red tulip into the pocket of her robes. 

Maybe she’d use it. It was still up for debate—but she’d have it ready if there was even a chance he might feel the same. 

When she arrived at their meeting spot, Ominis was fiddling with the flowers around him. Much like the first time, they laid sprawled out, ready to be dealt with one by one. She came and sat across from him, smiling. “Well, here I am, at my final lesson,” she said. 

He chuckled. “I hope I’ve been a sufficient teacher.”

“We’ll see if I pass the test.” 

He let the smile linger on his face for a moment before moving to one of the first flowers beside him. “I feel like I’ve done a proper job of informing you the uses of flora outside of romance—however, it doesn’t mean it’s still not a large part of it.” 

The flower he held twirled in his fingers. She felt her cheeks heat up a bit—no, she couldn’t get too excited about this. Just because they were talking about love and affection didn’t mean…

“I feel like it’s an important section to cover,” she said, still eyeing the flower he held—pink with drooping petals. 

He nodded. “Extremely. This one I’m holding is a bit… well, dramatic, I suppose. But it conveys the giver’s message pretty clearly. Justicia—the perfection of female loveliness.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Very clearly. I assume you only give it if you really mean to court someone?” 

“Precisely. Would you mind holding it for me?” 

Before she could reply, he pressed the stem into her hand, all but forcing her to take it. She grasped without much thought, as Ominis was already reaching for the next flower. He held up the cluster of small flowers, smiling. “Here we have Peruvian heliotrope. It signifies unwavering devotion.”

He held it out to her, and she took it without a word. He continued on, not missing a beat. The next thing he held was not a flower at all—but he was quick to explain. “Cedar leaf,” he said. “Perhaps not a flower like the others, but it expresses the proper messages. I… I live for thee.” 

There was a tone in his voice that had changed dramatically from when he was simply giving her explanations. A distinct shift that made it hard for her to breathe. One that made her hand feel like it was burning where his fingers brushed against his as he handed her the leaf. 

“Everlasting,” he named, holding a bright burst of yellow and orange petals, “Never-ceasing remembrance.” 

It was added to her growing bouquet. 

He picked up the final flower she saw, a lovely little pink thing, taking the shape of a ball. “Globe amaranth. It has two meanings. Immortality, for the first. But the one I’d like to emphasis is unfading love.”

She sucked in a breath. The petals shook a bit, resulting from his trembling hand. Before he handed it to her, he reached behind him, pulling out a flower that he had let lay concealed there. 

“You’ll recognize this one,” he said softly. She did. The flower he had given her on that very first lesson—the one he told her she’d learn about in due time. It seemed that the time had come. “Honey flower. Love sweet and secret.” 

He felt the same. He had this entire time. He’d sat with her, day after day of studying and laughing, all the while letting his heart beat for her. It filled with with a joy she had never known—one she was determined to never let go off. 

She looked up at his face, jaw tense, and she realized her silence at his confession must be excruciating. She reached forward, taking the flowers from his hands and adding it to her perfect collection before setting it aside. “You mean it, Ominis?” she asked, hoping she had not taken this all ridiculously out of turn. It was relief when he answered in a quiet voice. 

“Every word.” 

She grinned, taking one of his hands in her own before reaching for the pocket of her robe. The flower was still intact—a small miracle she was glad had occurred. “You’ve been an absolutely amazing teacher,” she said, guiding his hand to take the tulip. He wrapped his fingers around it, brows furrowing. “For one, I now know how important colors are when it comes to deciphering meanings.”  She leaned closer, voice coming out as almost a whisper. “I’ve brought another tulip for you. But this one is red.” 

His face lit up in an instant, lips reaching up to spread into the most beautiful smile. The flower was set aside, for his hands found something much more important to do. He placed them on either side of her face, fingers tracing over her cheeks. She held his wrists, letting him lead her closer and closer, until there was no distance left at all. 

The breeze blew softly over them, carrying the floral scent with it. She’d love that smell for the rest of her life, she was sure—because it would always remind her of the way his lips felt on hers.